Page 12 of The Sin Bin

Kane merely grunted in response.

Jax glanced back at Lauren. Their eyes met briefly across the distance, and she gave a small, awkward wave. Before he could respond, Coach Vicky's whistle cut through the air, calling the team in for final instructions.

"Boston wants to drag us into a physical game," Vicky said, her sharp eyes sweeping over each player. "Give them what they want." Her gaze lingered meaningfully on Jax. "But be smart about it. Don't start it, but if it goes, finish it."

As they broke from the huddle, Dmitri nudged him. "Your vet's watching. Try not to disappoint her."

Jax rolled his eyes, but as he took his position for the opening face-off, he was acutely aware of Lauren's presence behind the bench. What would she think about him after seeing what he did up close and personal? Would it confirm her worst suspicions about him, or would she see what he'd been trying to tell her—that what he did on the ice was separate from who he was?

The referee dropped the puck, and all other thoughts evaporated as Jax's world narrowed to the game.

Boston came out hard, as expected, their defensemen laying punishing hits on anyone in a blue jersey. Jax absorbed a particularly vicious check into the boards during his second shift, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his still-tender ribs. He pushed himself up, catching sight of number 44—Ryan Barker, Boston's enforcer and a guy with a reputation for crossing lines.

"What are you going to do Six Seven?" Barker sneered as they battled for position in front of Boston's net. "You're not going to do anything."

Jax ignored the taunt, keeping his focus on screening the goalie while Kane worked the puck along the half-boards. But Barker wasn't finished. He shoved his glove into Jax's face, the leather reeking of sweat and old fights.

"Too scared to drop the mitts anymore?" Barker continued his chirping. "Heard the league is going to sussy you."

Jax felt the familiar heat rise in his chest, the enforcer's instinct to respond with his fists. His hand twitched, ready to grab Barker's jersey. But he caught sight of Lauren over Barker's shoulder, her eyes fixed on him even from a distance. He took a deep breath, forced his fingers to relax.

"Just play hockey, Barker. Might help your plus-minus if you spent less time on your ass in the box."

The whistle blew as Oliver fired a clapper that the goalie smothered. As they reset for the face-off, Jax caught Lauren watching him intently, her expression unreadable from this distance.

The first period ended scoreless, both teams feeling each other out. As Jax settled in the locker room, letting the trainers check his ribs, he wondered what Lauren thought of the game so far. What she thought of him.

"You're distracted," Coach Vicky observed, appearing beside him with her ever-present clipboard. "Something to do with your visitor behind the bench?"

Jax's head jerked up in surprise. "How did you—"

"Kane told me," she said with a shrug. "And Dmitri wouldn't shut up about the 'pretty animal doctor' who's stealing your heart."

Heat crept up Jax's neck. "She's not—it's not like that. She's just the vet who's treating the kitten I found."

"Uh-huh." Vicky's skepticism burned. "Well, whatever she is, keep your head in the game. Boston's looking to get under your skin specifically." Her expression softened slightly. "That said, I like how you've been playing lately. More controlled. Using your size effectively without crossing lines."

The praise caught him off guard. Vicky wasn't known for handing out compliments. "Thanks, Coach."

As the buzzer sounded for the second period, Jax steeled himself. Boston would push harder now, looking to break the deadlock. Sure enough, the hits came faster, the play more physical. Midway through the period, Jax found himself defending against a two-on-one rush, Barker bearing down on Ethan with clear intent to deliver a punishing hit.

Time seemed to slow as Jax assessed his options. The old playbook would have been simple: take Barker out, consequences be damned. Protect the kid at all costs. But with Lauren watching, with the league scrutinizing his every move, with the league P.R. rep all up in his Kool Aid, he tried something different.

Jax timed his movement to get his stick in the passing lane while positioning his body to shield Ethan. The puck deflected off his blade and out of the zone, the dangerous rush neutralized without a single body hitting the ice.

As they skated back to the bench, Ethan bumped his glove against Jax's. "Sick play, big man. Saved my bacon there."

Jax's eyes found Lauren again, and this time, he thought he detected approval in her expression. Something lightened in his chest, a feeling so unfamiliar he almost didn't recognize it as pride—not in the fear he could instill, but in the skill he'd demonstrated.

The moment was short-lived. On his next shift, Jax had just cleared the puck when Barker caught him with a blindside hit, driving his elbow into Jax's temple. The impact sent him sprawling, his vision momentarily blurring as his head connected with the ice.

The crowd erupted, boos raining down as Jax pushed himself to his knees. Something hot and familiar ignited in his chest—the enforcer's instinct, honed over years. His eyes found Barker, who was watching with a satisfied smirk, already skating away.

Jax was on his feet, closing the gap to Barker in three powerful strides. He grabbed a fistful of the Boston enforcer's jersey, spinning him around.

"Let's go, you piece of shit," Jax snarled, dropping his gloves.

Barker's smirk vanished as he realized what was coming. He barely had time to drop his own mitts before Jax landed the first punch—a solid right that snapped Barker's head back. The Boston player recovered, throwing a wild haymaker that Jax easily ducked.

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