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L auren

March 15th – Last game of the regular season

Her morning proved unexpectedly chaotic at the clinic, with three emergency cases before noon. Lauren had just finished closing a Labrador who'd tangled with a pet porcupine when Barb poked her head into the surgical suite.

"Dr. Grayson is on line two. Says it's urgent."

Lauren frowned. Dr. Hal Grayson was the veterinary director at the county animal control center, a position she'd once been shortlisted for. "Can you finish here? Clean the quills from the surgical tray and start him on the antibiotics we discussed."

"Got it, boss," Barb said, taking her place at the table.

In her office, Lauren picked up the phone. "Hal, what's up?"

"Lauren, I need a massive favor," Grayson said without preamble. "We've got a situation. Animal hoarder case just got raided—forty-seven cats, twenty-eight dogs, all in various states of neglect. We're completely overwhelmed."

Lauren's stomach sank. "That's terrible. How can I help?"

"I need an experienced surgeon to handle the critical cases. I've got three dogs with severe injuries that need immediate attention, and my staff is stretched beyond capacity."

Lauren glanced at her schedule for the day. She was booked solid until closing, and tonight was Jax's big game—one she'd promised to attend.

"When do you need me?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Now, ideally. The conditions these animals were kept in..." His voice hardened. "It's bad, Lauren. Really bad."

She thought of the times she'd complained to Jax about the season's brutal schedule, the road trips, the physical toll. This was her equivalent—the emergencies that couldn't be scheduled, the animals that needed her regardless of personal plans.

"I'll be there in thirty," she promised. "Send me the case files so I can review them en route."

After hanging up, Lauren called the front desk. "Kim, I need you to reschedule my afternoon appointments. Emergency at county animal control."

"Even Mrs. Fitzgerald's poodle? She's already rescheduled twice."

"Especially her. Apologize profusely and offer a discount on her next visit."

Next, she texted Jax: Emergency at county shelter. Hoarding case. May not make first period. Will try my best.

His response came quickly: Do what you need to do. The animals need you more than I do right now.

The simple understanding in his message made her chest tighten. She started to type a thank you, then remembered about the PR opportunity.

What about the interview for the service dog program?

We'll work it out. Stay focused on those animals. They're the priority.

As she gathered her equipment, Lauren's phone rang again. This time it was Scott Greeley from the Chronicle.

"Dr. Mackenzie, glad I caught you," he said with false cheer. "I understand you'll be featured during tonight's broadcast discussing your work with the Charm City Chill and the service dog program."

Lauren's grip tightened on her phone. "How did you get this number?"

"Public record for business owners," Greeley replied smoothly. "I wanted to ask you a few questions about your personal connection to the team. Specifically, to Jackson Thompson."

"I'm not doing an interview right now," Lauren said firmly. "I'm heading to an emergency situation."

"Just a quick comment then," Greeley pressed. "Our readers would be interested to know how a veterinarian ends up dating hockey's most notorious enforcer. Especially given your professional dedication to healing. Seems like an odd match, don't you think? Him hurting people for a living, you healing animals?"

The deliberate contrast made her blood boil. "Mr. Greeley, I'm hanging up now."

"Do you ever worry about his violent tendencies?" Greeley continued, ignoring her statement. "The league has suspended him twice for fighting. The Philadelphia game could make it a third if Wilson provokes him again. Would you stand by him if—"

Lauren ended the call, her hands shaking slightly with anger. She blocked his number, then sat at her desk for a moment, trying to regain her composure.

The reporter's insinuations echoed what she'd read in those online comments—assumptions that Jax was nothing more than his enforcer role, that violence on the ice somehow defined him completely. She knew better. She'd seen his gentleness with animals, his patience, his thoughtfulness.

But Greeley's words had touched on something she'd been avoiding thinking about—what would happen if Jax did fight Wilson tonight? The league was watching him closely; another suspension seemed inevitable if he lost control.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Lauren gathered her surgical kit and headed to her car. The animals at the county shelter needed her full attention. Everything else—Jax, hockey, the media—would have to wait.

JAX

The morning skate before the Philly game carried a tension that vibrated through the barn. Every tape-to-tape pass had extra zip, every stride more purpose, every drill executed with heightened focus. Even Coach Vicky's usual barked instructions held a sharper edge as she moved players through D-zone systems.

Jax felt it too—the weight of expectation pressing down as he worked through gap control drills with Marcus, their movements synchronized after years of being paired together. This wasn't just another tilt in an eighty-two game grind. This was Philly. This was Wilson. This was the team that had taken out their starting tendy and headhunted their rookies. And with playoff seeding on the line, the stakes couldn't be higher.

"Thompson," Vicky called from center ice. "Over here."

Jax skated over, aware of his teammates' curious glances. Getting called out during morning skate was rarely a good sign.

"What's the plan for Wilson tonight?" Vicky asked without preamble, her voice pitched low enough that only he could hear.

The directness of the question caught him off guard. "Thought the plan was to focus on hockey, not settling scores," he replied carefully.

Vicky's sharp eyes assessed him. "It is. But that rat bastard's going to be looking to get under your skin after last time. I need to know your head's screwed on straight."

Jax took a moment to consider his answer, aware that this conversation was about more than just tonight's game. It was about his evolution as a player, about the trust Vicky had placed in him with increased minutes and responsibilities.

"I'm good," he assured her. "If Wilson crosses the line, I'll deal with it. But I'm not going headhunting."

Vicky studied him for a long moment. "I got a call from the league office this morning."

Jax's stomach dropped. "About?"

"About you." She gestured for him to follow her away from the rest of the team, toward the empty bench. "They're watching you specifically tonight. Michelson himself called to inform me that if you engage with Wilson in any capacity that isn't strictly hockey-related, they're considering an automatic ten-game suspension."

"Ten games?" Jax's voice rose in disbelief. "That would take me halfway through the first round of playoffs, if we make it."

"That's the point," Vicky said bluntly. "The league is making an example of both of you after that video went viral. Wilson got the same warning."

"So if he runs one of our rookies again—"

"Someone else handles it," Vicky cut him off. "Norris knows. So does Kane. You stay clean tonight or we potentially lose you for crucial playoff games."

The unfairness of it burned in Jax's chest. This wasn't just about him and Wilson anymore—it was about his ability to protect his teammates, to fulfill the role he'd played for years.

"I'm matching you and Adeyemi against their top line tonight," Vicky continued. "I need you to shut them down. Hard but clean. Got it?"

"Got it," Jax confirmed, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his frustration.

"By the way, PR wants to see you after practice. Something about that service dog program?"

"The dogs were good for team morale," he said. "Oliver in particular."

"Mmm," Vicky hummed noncommittally. "Well, the suits upstairs were impressed."

"Lauren will be glad to hear that," Jax replied before he could catch himself, earning a knowing look from his coach.

"I'm sure she will be," Vicky agreed, then her expression turned more serious. "You know the media piranhas will pick up your romance right? You're not exactly flying under the radar after that tilt with Wilson went viral."

The reminder was unnecessary but Jax appreciated the warning nonetheless. The thought of Lauren being subjected to media scrutiny made his protective instincts flare, but it was an inevitable reality of his public profession.

"We'll handle it," he said simply.

"Good," Vicky said with a brisk nod. "Now get back to work. I want to see that neutral zone trap tightened up before tonight. You're letting too much daylight through on the weak side."

After practice, Jax sat heavily in his stall, unlacing his skates while mentally processing Vicky's warning. Ten games. The league had never come down that hard on him before, not even when he'd broken Simonson's jaw two seasons ago. The implicit message was clear: adapt or become expendable.

"You look like someone pissed in your protein shake," Marcus observed, dropping onto the bench beside him. "Coach give you a hard time?"

"League's threatening a ten-game suspension if I fight Wilson tonight," Jax said, keeping his voice low.

Marcus's eyebrows shot up. "Shit. That's harsh."

"That's politics," Jax corrected bitterly. "They're worried about optics after that video."

"So what's the play?"

Jax shrugged, trying to appear more casual than he felt. "I do my job. Play defense. Try not to end up on another highlight reel."

"And if Wilson targets Ethan again?"

"Then I trust my teammates to step up," Jax said, his gaze deliberately finding Kane across the room. The captain gave a subtle nod, confirming he was already aware of the situation.

Jax checked his messages, his mood lifting slightly when he saw one from Lauren.

Celebration dinner at my place after the game? Win or lose.

Something warm unfurled in Jax's chest at the simple invitation. A month ago, he'd been a guy whose entire focus was hockey, whose life revolved around games, practices, and recovery. Now, he looked beyond the final buzzer to something—someone—who mattered regardless of what the scoresheet said.

I'd like that , he replied quickly. Might be late depending on how things go.

She knew it was the last game of the season. If they won, they'd be going to the playoffs. If they lost... well, he would have more time to spend at the animal shelter and with her. It was a win-win for him.

Her response came moments later: I'll wait up. Be safe out there.

Jax was thinking about a reply when Stephanie Ellis, the team's head of public relations, appeared beside his stall.

"Jax, got a sec?" Stephanie intercepted him with that practiced PR smile. "Need to discuss the service dog program before you split."

"Sure," he said, setting his phone aside.

Stephanie guided him to a nearby conference room where several glossy printouts were spread across the table. Her smile tightened slightly at the still-visible bruise along his jawline from the last game.

"So, we've been talking with Officer Collins about those service dogs," she began, sliding into her pitch voice. "The fan response was incredible. Social engagement is up nearly forty percent from our usual game-day metrics."

"Good for the shelter," Jax said, crossing his arms.

"More importantly," Stephanie continued pointedly, "it's exactly the kind of positive image association we've been wanting to build for key players." The way she emphasized "positive" made it clear what she was contrasting it against.

She handed him a proposal summary. "The front office wants to make this official. Four to six service dogs at every home game, with special feature nights highlighting adoptions. We'd coordinate everything with Dr. Mackenzie and the shelter."

Jax glanced over the document. "Looks solid," he said, handing the paper back. "Lauren's gonna flip when she hears."

Stephanie's professional facade slipped for a moment, her eyes lighting with interest. "You and Dr. Mackenzie are... close?" The question was casual but calculated.

Jax shifted his weight, immediately on guard. PR questions were never just friendly curiosity. "She patched up a stray I found," he said flatly. "I put in time at the shelter. That's it."

"Of course," Stephanie nodded, though her expression showed she wasn't buying it. "Well, we'd like to announce the program tonight. We're hoping Dr. Mackenzie would join you during second intermission for a quick hit about the initiative."

Jax's eyebrows shot up. "Tonight? Against Philly?" Jax asked, his brow furrowing. The unspoken part hung in the air—the same Philly team with Wilson, the guy whose face he'd rearranged last time.

"Perfect timing, actually," Stephanie said. "Shows a different side of you during a potentially physical game. The tough defenseman with a soft spot for animals makes for wonderful press. Much better than other headlines."

The implication was crystal clear. This was as much about keeping him out of another fight as it was about the dogs.

"I'll need to check with Lauren," Jax said. "Make sure she's on board with the interview."

"Of course," Stephanie nodded. "Front row seats, behind the bench. It would be a fantastic human interest piece—the team's enforcer partnering with a veterinarian to help shelter animals." She paused, leaning forward slightly. "The commissioner himself is interested in the program. Mentioned it might factor into any future... disciplinary considerations."

Jax's eyes narrowed as he processed the implication. "So I play nice with puppies on camera, and maybe the league won't suspend me next time I do my job? That how this works?"

"I'm just saying that positive publicity creates goodwill," Stephanie replied carefully. "The league is looking for players who connect with the community in meaningful ways. This program could be your ticket to being seen as more than just an enforcer."

"The kind of story that might make the league office see you in a different light," Jax muttered, echoing what he suspected were Vicky's exact words to her.

"Precisely," Stephanie smiled, not bothering to deny it. "Your contract is up for renewal next season, isn't it?"

And there it was—the real leverage. With his traditional enforcer role becoming increasingly obsolete in the evolving game, Jax's future was far from secure. A ten-game suspension would hurt his value; being known as a community leader would help it.

"I'll text her," he conceded, already pulling out his phone. "But if Wilson pulls any dirty shit tonight, no amount of shelter dogs is gonna keep me from doing my job. We clear?"

Stephanie's smile remained fixed, but something calculating flashed in her eyes. "Crystal. Just remember your job includes staying on the ice, not in the box. Or worse, suspended."

"Yeah, yeah," Jax muttered, already typing a message to Lauren. "I'll let you know in twenty if she's in."

Back in the locker room, showered and changed, Jax stared at his phone, weighing the best way to present the opportunity to Lauren. They hadn't discussed going public with whatever was developing between them, and an on-camera interview would certainly qualify as public.

PR wants to announce the service dog program tonight , he texted her. They're hoping you might be available for a short interview during second intermission. No pressure either way.

Her response took several minutes, during which Jax absently reorganized his gear bag, meticulously placing each item in its designated spot.

Official shelter business or unofficial "us" business? came her reply, cutting straight to the heart of the matter with characteristic directness.

Officially about the shelter program , he typed back. But appearing together on camera will probably spark speculation.

Another pause, longer this time, before: I'm comfortable with that if you are. The program deserves the publicity, and the gossips are going to talk one way or another.

It made him smile. But about an hour later, another message from Lauren appeared: Emergency situation. Just got called to county shelter for a major hoarding case. 75+ animals in terrible condition. Three need immediate surgery.

Jax's disappointment was immediately replaced with concern and understanding. Will you still make the game? he asked.

I'll try my best , she replied quickly. Might miss first period. These surgeries could take hours.

Do what you need to do , he typed back. Those animals need you more than I do right now.

What about the interview for the service dog program? she asked after a moment.

We'll work it out. Don't worry about that. Just focus on those animals. They're the priority.

As he drove home for his pre-game nap, Jax's mind kept circling between three inescapable realities: the league's threat of a ten-game suspension, the importance of tonight's game for playoff positioning, and the growing certainty that whatever was developing between him and Lauren was rapidly becoming the most significant relationship of his adult life.

With playoff positioning on the line and a rematch against Wilson looming, Jax should have been entirely focused on hockey. Instead, he thought about the look on Lauren's face that morning as she'd studied him in her bed, about her simple promise to be there regardless of the outcome, about the easy understanding in her message about the emergency.

It should have felt like a distraction. Instead, it felt like clarity.

For the first time in his professional career, Jax realized he was playing not just for himself, for his team, or for a potential contract. He was playing for a future that might include more than just hockey—a future where the man he was off the ice mattered as much as the one on it.

And that changed everything about how he needed to approach tonight's game.