Page 91 of The Sin Bin

Lauren stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. The sleepy smile she gave him made his heart tighten.

"Morning," she murmured, voice husky with sleep. "Been awake long?"

"Just long enough," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingertips lingering against her warm skin.

She stretched against him, careful of his injured ribs. "Long enough for what?"

"To think about how much I like waking up with you," he said simply.

A faint blush colored her cheeks as she propped herself on one elbow. "Even with my disaster hair and morning breath?"

"Especially then." Jax traced a finger along her jawline, down the soft curve of her neck. "When it's just us."

Lauren leaned into his touch, her hand coming up to cup his as she turned her face to press a kiss against his palm. The simple gesture twisted something in his chest.

"I miss the cats," she said.

The sunlight streaming through her bedroom windows illuminated the reality of their situation—his battered body, their busy day ahead, the weight of last night's conversation about future plans. But for this moment, none of that mattered as much as the way she was looking at him.

He drew her closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as she nestled against him. Their legs intertwined beneath the sheets, her toes brushing against his calf in casual intimacy.

Lauren glanced at the clock and sighed. "Surgery at nine. I should start getting ready."

"I've got to catch a flight in a few hours," Jax acknowledged, though neither made a move to separate.

"Text me the information. I like knowing where you are, especially with those ribs."

"I will," Jax promised, his thumb gently stroking the bare skin of her shoulder. "Kane mentioned team brunch Sunday when we're back. You free?"

"I'd like that. Should be available unless emergencies intervene."

Unable to put it off any longer, he reluctantly rolled out of bed. By the time they finished breakfast and gathered their things to leave, Jax found himself unusually reluctant to go. It wasn't just the warm bed or the comfortable apartment. It was her. After years of keeping relationships casual and compartmentalized, the idea of missing someone was nearly foreign to him.

"About last night," he said by the door. "I meant everything I said about looking for something permanent. But I'm not trying to rush anything."

Lauren paused, keys in hand, and met his eyes with steady calm. "I know," she assured him, reaching to touch his arm, her fingers curling around his bicep in a gentle squeeze.

"Good," he nodded, allowing his shoulders to relax. "Just wanted to be clear."

"We're good at that," Lauren observed with a smile. "Being clear with each other. It's one of my favorite things about us."

There it was again—that simple word. Us. It had never sounded so right.

She rose on tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, her lips soft against his. He cradled her face between his hands, deepening the kiss for a moment, trying to memorize the feel of her before their separation.

"Text me when you land and protect those ribs from Wilson," she whispered against his lips.

"Not a problem."

As he drove toward the practice facility, the memory of Lauren's smile kept replaying in his mind. Hockey had been his identity for so long—the enforcer, the protector, the intimidator—that he'd never really considered what else he might be. With Lauren, he was discovering parts of himself he hadn't known existed.

As the Chill boarded their charter for Philadelphia, the plane buzzed with tactical discussions and playoff scenarios. Kane and Marcus debated power play adjustments while rookies Ethan and Oliver studied video on shared tablets. The energy felt different from regular season travel—more focused, more purposeful.

Jax settled into his usual window seat, phone in hand. He pulled up real estate listings he'd been researching—houses with yards for the cats, space for Lauren's home office, guest rooms for teammates who needed a place to crash. Properties with permanence, with futures. With room for two people instead of just one.

His thumb hovered over a particular listing—a renovated craftsman with a wrap-around porch and mature oak trees in the yard. It looked like somewhere you'd build a life, not just store your gear between road trips.

Before he could overthink it, he texted the listing to Lauren with a simple message:Caught my eye. Thoughts?

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