Page 89 of The Sin Bin

The conversation left Lauren with a growing sense of foreboding. What wasn't Jax telling her about his injury? How much worse would it get if they advanced?

It was during dessert that she noticed Jax's increasing discomfort—the way he barely touched his tiramisu, the subtle sheen of sweat at his temples despite the room's comfortable temperature, the controlled, shallow breaths that spoke of someone managing significant pain.

"You need to ice those ribs," she said quietly.

Jax's eyebrows raised slightly. "That obvious?"

"Yeah, we should go home." The simple "we" slipped out naturally.

"Let me just check with Kane about tomorrow's schedule," he said, rising carefully with deliberate control that confirmed her assessment.

Lauren watched him walk away, noting the almost imperceptible unevenness in his gait—compensating for the pain in his side by subtly shifting his weight. The other players wouldn't notice, but her trained eye caught every tell.

As Jax stepped away, Oliver leaned closer with uncharacteristic conspiracy.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For what you've done for him. For the team."

Lauren blinked in surprise. "I haven't done anything special."

Oliver's knowing smile suggested otherwise. "Before you came along, he was just our enforcer. Now he's become a leader—someone the younger guys actually look to for guidance, not just protection. That's new."

"How so?"

"Jax used to solve everything with his fists," Oliver explained. "Effective, but one-dimensional. Now he's teaching us how to manage confrontation intelligently. How to stand our ground without losing control." He glanced in Jax's direction. "That speech about sticking to our game plan instead of seeking revenge? That's not the Jax Thompson from last season. That's evolution."

"It works both ways," she acknowledged, touched by Oliver's insight.

Jax returned before the conversation could continue. "We've got an early film session tomorrow before practice."

"It'll be an early night," Lauren said.

Their departure prompted a wave of goodbyes. Kane caught Lauren's eye, offering a subtle nod of approval. Coach Vicky similarly acknowledged their exit, her sharp eyes missing nothing of Jax's carefully controlled movements.

In the parking lot, the spring night carried unexpected chill. "My place or yours?" Lauren asked practically. "Mine's closer, but you might prefer your own space for recovery."

"Yours," Jax decided without hesitation. "If that's okay. Penalty and Tripod are fine overnight with the feeders."

"Of course it's okay. I have better medical supplies anyway."

When they arrived, the familiar routine had developed its own choreography—keys in the designated bowl, shoes by the door, jackets on the hooks on the wall.

"Let me see the ribs," Lauren instructed once they'd settled in her living room.

Jax complied without protest, carefully removing his henley to reveal the spectacular bruising along his left side. The injury had worsened, Wilson's crosscheck having landed on the already vulnerable area. Fresh purple-blue discoloration overlaid the yellowing evidence of the previous impact.

Lauren sucked in a breath. The bruising was far more extensive than she'd anticipated, spreading from just under his armpit down to his lowest rib. The area was significantly swollen, suggesting deeper tissue damage than simple bruising.

"They're actually improving," Jax offered, clearly downplaying the severity. "The blue is new, but the older areas are healing normally."

Lauren gave him a skeptical look as she carefully palpated the area, noting his controlled breathing despite her gentle touch. "By hockey standards, perhaps," she acknowledged. "By medical standards, this is significant trauma that needs proper management."

As her fingers probed gently, she felt something that made her medical instincts flare with concern—a subtle but distinct feel to the bone that suggested hairline fracture rather than simple bruise.

"Jax," she said carefully, "I think you might have a cracked rib here. Not just a bruise."

His expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his eyes—confirmation rather than surprise.

"Medical suspected as much," he admitted, confirming her fears. "But without a complete break, it's just about pain management."

---