Page 13 of The Sin Bin

Three more punishing blows, each one landing with a viciousness born from years of practice. The final uppercut sent Barker down to one knee, blood dripping from his nose onto the ice.

The crowd was on its feet now, the Chill faithful roaring their approval as Jax stood over his fallen opponent. The linesmen moved in, separating them as Barker struggled back to his feet.

"Come back anytime you want more," Jax growled as they were escorted to their respective penalty boxes.

As Jax took his seat in the sin bin, he caught sight of Lauren. Unlike before, her expression was a mixture of shock and something else—not approval, certainly, but not the disgust he might have expected either.

From the bench, Kane gave him a subtle nod. No words needed—the captain understood perfectly. Some lines couldn't be crossed without consequences, and Jax had just reminded the entire Boston team of that fundamental hockey truth.

Five minutes for fighting. A fair price for setting the tone.

Two shifts later, with Boston still leading 1-0, Jax had a clear lane to the net after a sauce pass from Marcus. With Barker closing in, Jax feinted left, then cut right, using his body to shield the puck. As the goalie committed, Jax slid the biscuit to the far post where Dmitri was waiting to tap it home.

The arena exploded as the goal light flashed. Instead of his usual celly, Dmitri skated straight to Jax, throwing his arms around him. "Beautiful apple. Like Gretzky, yes?"

As the team celebrated around him, Jax shot a glance toward Lauren. She was on her feet with the rest of the crowd, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips as her friend bounced excitedly beside her.

The rest of the game passed in a blur of intensity. With five minutes left in the third period, the score still knotted at ones, Jax delivered a clean hit that separated Barker from the puck at a crucial moment. Kane scooped it up, breaking in alone on the Boston tendy before roofing a backhand for the go-ahead goal.

When the final horn sounded, cementing the Chill's 2-1 victory, Jax was glad they won when Lauren was watching. As the team filed off the ice, though, Jax saw that Lauren's seat was empty, she and her friend already gone. Disappointment settled in his chest.

"Looking for someone?" Kane asked, falling into step beside him as they headed toward the locker room.

Jax shook his head, refusing to give his captain more ammunition for chirping. "Just scanning the crowd. Habit."

Kane's knowing smile said he wasn't fooled. "Well, whoever you're not looking for is waiting by the staff exit. Dmitri spotted her on his way in."

Jax's head snapped up, earning a laugh from Kane. "Shut up," he muttered, but there was no heat in it.

"Go on," Kane said, nudging him toward the corridor that led to the staff parking lot. "I'll cover for you with the media vultures."

Despite himself, Jax felt a surge of gratitude. "Thanks, Cap."

"Just don't do anything I wouldn't do," Kane called after him, then paused. "Actually, disregard that. My standards are questionable at best. But if you wheel that vet, I want full details tomorrow, you beauty."

Jax flipped him off without looking back but smiled as he headed for the showers.

He dressed quickly, hoping she would wait around a bit. He didn't see her at first when he pushed open the door to the staff exit. But then standing awkwardly by a bench, was Lauren, her hair whipping around her face in the winter wind.

Alone. Her friend was nowhere to be seen.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said.

She startled slightly, as if she'd been lost in thought. "I—Barb had to leave early. Work emergency." She hesitated, then added, "How's Pen settling in?"

"He's adjusting. My neighbor Mr. Collins is cat sitting tonight. Did you enjoy the game?"

"I... it was..." she trailed off, looking away briefly before meeting his eyes again. "That fight. With number 44."

Jax tensed. Here it comes, he thought. The judgment, the disapproval. The confirmation of her worst suspicions about him.

"He hit you first," she said, surprising him. "With his elbow. I saw the replay on the jumbotron."

"Barker and I have history," he said with a shrug that did nothing to hide his still-aching ribs. "Part of the game."

Lauren studied him, her green eyes complex with emotions he couldn't read. "I don't like violence," she said carefully. "I've seen enough of what it does to understand why I should keep my distance from it."

The words hung in the air between them, laden with meaning. There was something in her tone—a personal history that made him wonder what, or who, had taught her that lesson.

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