Page 95 of The Sin Bin

Lauren placed her other hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her palm. "I need you to hear me, Jax. Really hear me. Not just the doctor part of me, but the woman who cares about you. Who's terrified of losing you to this."

His hand tightened around hers. "I know I can play through this."

"At what cost, Jax? Another concussion? Permanent damage to your orbital bone? Your vision?"

"It's Philadelphia," he repeated, as if those words explained everything.

And to him, she realized, they did. They justified any risk, any sacrifice. It was a world she would never fully understand, no matter how many games she attended or terms she learned.

"Look, my ex, Mark, was a boxer. He died in the ring. He got into a lot of fights outside of it. He took a lot of head shots. The last one was too much."

"I'm sorry."

She nodded. "He was loud. Violent. Out of control."

"Sounds like someone I know," Jax said with a sheepish grin.

"I thought so too. Until I got to know you."

"The last fight, I actually convinced him to use his boxing to get out his aggressions."

"What happened in the ring wasn't your fault."

"I couldn't stop it."

"No, you couldn't, so it wasn't your fault."

"Sometimes I believe that," she said.

"I'm not Mark," Jax said, his uninjured eye holding hers steadily.

"I know that," Lauren replied, meeting his gaze directly. "Logically, I know that. But emotionally? When Kane called and said you'd been in a fight? All those old fears came rushing back."

Jax was silent for a long moment, processing her words. His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, the tender gesture at odds with his battered appearance.

"I can't promise I'll never fight again," he said finally. "On the ice or off it. Not in this world, not with my job."

"And I can't promise I'll ever be completely comfortable with that," Lauren countered, equally honest. "Not with my history."

The admission hung between them, neither able to offer the reassurance the other needed.

"So where does that leave us?" Jax asked quietly, the question weighted with genuine fear. For all his physical courage, this uncertainty clearly terrified him more than any opponent.

Before Lauren could respond, a hospital attendant arrived to coordinate his discharge preparations, the conversation necessarily tabled as medical logistics demanded attention. Lauren stepped back, allowing the staff space to work while remaining present, her silent support an anchor amid the institutional bureaucracy.

As the nurses went about their tasks, Jax's gaze kept returning to Lauren, something shifting in his expression with each glance. When they were briefly alone again as papers were being processed outside, he spoke.

"Lauren, I—" he started, then paused, clearly struggling with the words. "I don't know how to balance this. The team, the playoffs, everything hockey's been to me... and now you." His battered face contorted with the effort of articulation. "For the first time, I'm afraid of losing something more important than hockey."

The simple admission struck Lauren with its vulnerability.

"I want to fight for us," he continued, his voice low and strained. "But I don't know if that's fair to you. Maybe you deserve someone who doesn't bring all this..." he gestured to his injuries, "into your life. Someone who makes you feel safe, not scared."

Lauren stepped closer, carefully taking his face between her hands, mindful of his injuries. "I don't want you to fight for me, Jax. I want you to fight for yourself. For your future. A future that includes more than just the next game or the next season."

Jax's good eye closed briefly, leaning into her touch. For a moment, he seemed to let the weight of playoffs and team expectations slide away, revealing the man beneath all the layers of enforcer, protector, hockey player.

"I just don't know," she said when they were alone again.

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