Page 69 of The Sin Bin

When they got back to the apartment, Lauren changed into more casual clothes. He moved through her kitchen, finding glasses for the champagne they'd planned to enjoy in private celebration before the O'Malley's detour.

"Now this is my kind of playoff celebration," Lauren observed as she returned in leggings and an oversized sweater, eyeing the champagne and strawberries he'd set out.

Jax handed her a flute. "To making the playoffs," he toasted. "And to having someone special to celebrate with."

"To evolution," Lauren countered softly, clinking her glass against his. "Both on and off the ice."

They settled onto the couch with their champagne, the intensity of O'Malley's fading with each minute in the peaceful quiet of her apartment.

"Your block really was impressive," Lauren said, tucking her feet beneath her.

"It's my job," Jax demurred, though her recognition warmed him in a way that Coach Vicky's technical approval hadn't.

"You play differently now than when I first watched you. More calculating."

Her assessment caught him off guard—she'd been watching closely enough to notice the subtle shift in his game. "That's the goal," he acknowledged. "To be more than just the guy who throws punches. Especially now that we're headed to the playoffs."

"You already are," Lauren said with quiet certainty.

She leaned against his side, fitting herself naturally into the space beside him. Jax draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

"I was worried when Wilson targeted Kane," she admitted. "Part of me expected you to..."

"Fight?" Jax supplied when she trailed off. "Yeah. Old habits die hard. But there's a difference between protecting teammates and just seeking payback."

"A distinction your fans clearly miss," Lauren noted dryly. "Those guys at the next table were disappointed by your restraint. Something about Wilson 'needing his teeth rearranged before the playoffs.'"

Jax grimaced. "Part of hockey culture. Blood sells tickets." He paused, then asked the question that had been lingering. "Does it bother you? What I've done on the ice? What playoff hockey might mean?"

Lauren considered the question carefully. "I enjoy watching you play hockey," she said finally. "The strategy, the skill, the teamwork—it's beautiful in its way. I don't enjoy watching fights. I probably never will. But I understand better now why they happen." She looked up at him. "And I see that it's not all of who you are. Not even close. Playoffs or not."

The knot in his chest loosened slightly. "The game's changing anyway. Moving toward skill and speed over just hitting. My role with it."

"Hence the defensive positioning and playoff-clinching blocks," Lauren concluded with a smile. "Evolution in action."

They settled into shared quiet, sipping champagne. Jax became acutely aware of Lauren's warmth against his side, the subtle scent of her shampoo, the weight of her head on his shoulder.

"So," he said finally, giving voice to what they'd both been dancing around, "we're officially out there now. The interview, the team gathering. People are gonna talk, especially with playoff excitement building."

Lauren shifted to look up at him. "Does that bother you? The attention?"

"I'm used to it," Jax replied honestly. "Comes with the territory. I'm more worried about how it affects you. Your practice, your privacy. Playoff media coverage can get intense."

"I appreciate that," she said, her fingers finding his. "But I'm choosing this, Jax. Us. Whatever complications come with it, playoffs and all."

The simple declaration settled something inside him that had been restless since the PR request. Lauren wasn't walking into this blindly. She was making a conscious choice, fully aware of what playoff hockey would mean for his schedule, his focus, and the media attention.

"I'm choosing this too," he said quietly. "Have been since you made me call you Dr. Mackenzie while I was bleeding all over your exam room floor."

Lauren laughed, the sound warm against his chest. "Not my finest moment," she admitted. "Though in my defense, you were intimidating as hell."

"Me?" Jax affected surprise. "I've been told I have a very approachable demeanor."

"By whom? People who've never seen you scowl at an opponent?" Lauren teased, poking his ribs playfully. "You're 6'4" of muscle with 'enforcer' as a job title. First impressions weren't exactly 'teddy bear.'"

"And yet, here we are," Jax observed, tightening his arm around her slightly.

"Evolution in action," Lauren repeated softly, setting her empty champagne flute aside. "For both of us."

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