Page 82 of The Sin Bin

The invitation was significant. Team dinners with partners weren't for casual flings. That Kane would extend such an invitation spoke volumes about how the team viewed Jax's relationship with Lauren.

"I'll ask her," Jax said, considering. "She might have clinic hours. I can't keep her schedule straight, but I'll check."

Kane nodded. "Good. And Thompson?"

"Yeah?"

"Ice those ribs before you leave," Kane instructed, his captain's authority evident despite his casual tone. "You're hiding it well, but Marcus noted your left side rotation is 12% restricted compared to baseline. Whatever the hell that means."

Jax sighed. "Between you, Marcus, Lauren, Coach, and PR, I apparently can't hide anything."

"That's what teams do," Kane replied simply. "On and off the ice. Cover each other's blind spots, notice what needs attention."

Jax dutifully reported to the medical room. He sat with an ice pack strapped to his side, competing expectations weighing on his mind. After the cold therapy, heat would follow. The endless cycle of care for an injury that had no time to properly heal. Not with Philly—and Wilson—waiting tomorrow.

When he arrived at Carlo's twenty minutes later, Lauren was already there, seated in a corner booth with a clear view of the door. The moment she spotted him, her face brightened in a way that still caught him off guard—the simple, unguarded pleasure she took in seeing him.

As he slid into the booth across from her, she studied him with a professional eye. "How bad are the ribs today?"

"Six out of ten," he admitted, knowing she'd see through any attempt to downplay it. "Practice was intense."

She nodded, accepting his honesty without pressing. This was what separated her from others he'd dated—her ability to acknowledge his physical reality without trying to change it. "Did you ice after?"

"Yes, doctor," he said with a small smile. "And heat's scheduled for later."

"Good." She pushed a glass of water toward him. "I ordered you the protein bowl. Figured you'd need the recovery fuel."

The small gesture—knowing what he needed without him having to ask—struck him more deeply than it should have. How easily she'd slipped into his life, fitting herself around its edges without trying to reshape it.

"What?" she asked, catching his expression.

"Nothing. Just..." he hesitated, searching for words. "This is new for me. Having someone who gets it. Gets me."

Her eyes softened. "It goes both ways, you know."

"Team dinner tomorrow after the game," he said. "Kane specifically asked if you'd come."

"Team dinner?" Lauren repeated, surprise evident in her voice. "That's... significant, isn't it?"

"It is," Jax confirmed. "But only if you want it to be. No pressure."

Lauren was quiet for a moment, turning her water glass between her fingers. "The playoffs are about to get intense, aren't they?" she asked finally. "I've been reading up on what that means. The schedule, the travel, the pressure."

The question behind her question was clear—what would this mean for them?

"It's all-consuming," Jax admitted. "Long days, longer nights. Some guys don't see their families for weeks except on FaceTime."

"And what about you?" Lauren asked, her gaze direct. "How do you handle it?"

"Before? I shut everything out. Focused only on hockey." He met her eyes. "But now..."

"Now there's me," she finished softly.

"Now there's you," he agreed. "And I don't want to shut you out. But I don't know how to do both yet—how to give everything to the team and still have something left for... us."

The confession cost him, but he needed her to understand what was coming. The playoffs changed people—changed relationships. He'd seen enough marriages strain under the weight of postseason hockey to know the toll it took.

Lauren reached across the table, her fingers finding his. "We’ll figure it out." she said.

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