Page 73 of The Sin Bin

Jax just nodded, too focused on the agony in his side to celebrate. The trainer pressed an ice pack against his ribs where that spear had caught him late in the third. The bruise was already blooming purple beneath his compression shirt.

Kane slid onto the bench beside him, voice dropping low enough that only Jax could hear. "That hit you took... that was deliberate. Rousseau was gunning for you all night."

"Part of the job," Jax muttered, wincing as the trainer found a particularly tender spot.

"No." Kane's eyes hardened. "That wasn't hockey. That was personal. I heard what he said to you during warmups."

Jax's jaw tightened. Rousseau's taunts about being a "has-been enforcer" and "dinosaur of the league" shouldn't have bothered him, but they'd struck closer to home than he'd admitted.

"Rousseau's an asshole," Kane continued. "But he's not wrong about one thing—league's watching you. Different standard." He clasped Jax's shoulder. "You played smart tonight. That's why we won."

The simple acknowledgment from the team captain meant more than Kane could know. Jax gave a short nod, the most he could manage through the pain.

"Thompson." Coach Vicky appeared in the doorway, jerking her head toward the corridor. Jax hauled himself up, every muscle protesting.

"Medical after media," she instructed, her eyes narrowing at his careful movements. "That rib needs imaging."

"It's just a bruise," Jax countered, trying not to wince as he shifted. "Had worse in juniors."

"Not a request," Vicky replied, though her tone carried more concern than command. "You're too important to this system to risk further injury. Imaging tonight, treatment protocol tomorrow."

The words hit harder than the cross-check had. Important to the system. Not just a heavy fist or intimidating presence, but a crucial tactical piece. Jax nodded once, accepting both the directive and the recognition behind it.

"Coach," he hesitated, "if this is worse than we think—"

"Then we adjust," Vicky said firmly. "But I'm not letting Montreal dictate our lineup through cheap shots. That's what they want."

Jax knew she was right. The Montreal coach had a reputation for targeting key defensive players, wearing them down physically to create space for their skilled forwards. The thought of sitting out even one playoff game made his stomach twist.

The media scrum was the usual post-game circus. Jax stuck to the script about system adjustments, keeping his answers vague enough to avoid giving Montreal's coaching staff anything useful for next time. He attributed his increased minutes to "team needs" rather than anything else.

He was nearly in the clear when a Hockey Night in Canada reporter slipped in one final question.

"Your partnership with Dr. Mackenzie on the service dog program has generated considerable positive attention," the guy said, his tone professional but his eyes watchful. "Any comment on how that collaboration developed or its impact on your community involvement?"

Jax kept his face neutral, even as his pulse kicked up. The question was framed around the program, but the underlying curiosity was obvious. Everyone wanted to know about the enforcer and the vet. She and the dogs were there tonight and the crowd loved them as they strutted their stuff during the first period's intermission.

"The program speaks for itself," he replied evenly. "Dr. Mackenzie and Parkside Animal Rescue are doing important work with service dogs, and the arena provides excellent training opportunities. My involvement is just one part of a community initiative the entire organization supports."

Clean deflection. Textbook media training. But something made him add, "Dr. Mackenzie's expertise with animal behavior is impressive. The shelter is fortunate to have her involvement, as is the team."

The reporter's mouth curved knowingly. Before he could follow up, the PR director stepped in, ending the session. Saved by the buzzer.

As Jax headed toward medical, a Montreal beat reporter shouted a question from behind the cordon: "Any response to Rousseau's podcast comments about 'dinosaur enforcers who should be extinct'?"

Jax froze mid-step. Podcast comments? That explained the targeted hit. He forced himself to keep walking, pretending he hadn't heard, but his mind was churning. Rousseau was a social media darling with a massive following. If he was publicly gunning for Jax, this series just got more complicated.

Medical confirmed what Vicky suspected—a nasty bone bruise to the ribs that would require treatment but, thankfully, no fracture. The doctor's expression grew serious as she examined the bruising.

"This is right on the edge, Thompson. Another hit here..." She let the implication hang.

"How long?" Jax asked, his voice tight.

"You're cleared for practice, limited contact. Game-time decision for Game 2." She held up a hand before he could protest. "And that's generous. Most guys would be sitting a week minimum."

The news settled like a weight on his chest. Game 2 was critical—teams that went up 2-0 in a series won over 80% of the time. If he couldn't play...

His phone buzzed with a text as he was leaving medical. Kane again:Meet me in the video room. Need your eyes on something.

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