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L auren

Lauren's hands trembled slightly as she peeled off her surgical gloves, exhaustion settling into her bones after three back-to-back emergency procedures. The animal hoarding case had been every bit as horrific as Dr. Grayson had warned—dozens of malnourished cats and dogs, many requiring immediate medical intervention.

"That's the last of the critical cases," Grayson said, appearing beside her at the sink. His scrubs were as blood-stained as hers, dark circles under his eyes betraying his own fatigue. "You're a miracle worker, Lauren. That Shepherd wouldn't have made it without you."

"He's not out of the woods yet," she cautioned, though pride flickered through her exhaustion. The dog's injuries had been severe—a festering wound that had gone untreated for weeks, leading to a systemic infection that had required complex surgery and careful management.

"Still," Grayson insisted, "I don't know another vet who could have pulled that off." He glanced at the clock. "It's nearly six. Weren't you supposed to be at the hockey game?"

Lauren followed his gaze, startled to realize how much time had passed. "Yes, I need to get going. Are you sure you don't need me for anything else?"

"We've handled the worst cases thanks to you. The rest are stable enough for overnight monitoring." He offered a tired smile. "Besides, someone told me your boyfriend has a big game tonight. Wouldn't want you to miss it."

Lauren blinked, surprised by the casual label. "My boyfriend?"

Grayson's eyebrows rose. "Thompson, right? The hockey player who's been volunteering at Parkside?" At her expression, he chuckled. "Small town, Lauren. People notice when the city's most feared enforcer starts showing up regularly at animal shelters."

"It's... complicated," she hedged, though the term felt less daunting than it would have even a week ago.

"Well, whatever it is, you should go. The team here can handle the follow-up care." He checked his phone. "Game's already started, but you might catch the last two periods."

Lauren hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Call me if anything changes with the Shepherd. I want updates on his condition."

"Will do. Now go—and tell Thompson nice work on that viral fight. My son hasn't stopped talking about it for weeks."

As Lauren hurried to her car, she checked her phone to find multiple texts from both Jax and Stephanie from PR, confirming the intermission interview was still on. She quickly texted Stephanie that she was on her way, then sent Jax a message:

Just finished at the shelter. Three emergency surgeries, but all patients stable. On my way to the arena now.

His reply came moments later: You're amazing. Ticket waiting at will call. Drive safe.

The simple praise warmed her even as she rushed to make herself presentable in the limited time available. A change of clothes in her trunk—the navy dress and structured jacket Barb had recommended, thankfully—and a quick touch-up in the rearview mirror would have to suffice.

Traffic around the arena was heavy, but Lauren navigated it with growing familiarity, finding her way to the staff parking area where Stephanie had arranged a spot for her. As she hurried toward the entrance, her phone buzzed with a news alert.

brEAKING: Charm City Chill Enforcer Jax Thompson's Girlfriend Identified as Local Veterinarian

Lauren froze, opening the alert to find a hastily written article accompanied by a photo of her and Jax at the casino night, clearly taken by another attendee. The headline made her stomach clench:

FROM FIGHTING TO FUR BABIES: THOMPSON'S UNLIKELY ROMANCE

She skimmed the article, her unease growing with each paragraph:

...sources close to the team confirm Thompson has been spending significant time at local animal shelters, a stark contrast to his on-ice reputation as one of the league's most feared enforcers...

...Dr. Lauren Mackenzie, a veterinarian at New Haven Emergency Veterinary Clinic, has been linked romantically to Thompson following multiple sightings together...

...Thompson's violent altercation with Philadelphia's Brady Wilson last month raised questions about the league's continued tolerance for fighting, with some analysts speculating that his new relationship might be an attempt to soften his image ahead of contract negotiations...

Lauren closed the article, her chest tight. The timing couldn't be worse—published just hours before their official appearance together at the game. And the insinuation that their relationship was some kind of PR move to rehabilitate Jax's image felt both insulting and uncomfortably pointed.

Too late to back out now. Lauren pushed the article from her mind and hurried inside, where Stephanie Ellis was waiting with barely concealed relief.

"Dr. Mackenzie, thank goodness you made it," she said, ushering Lauren through security. "I was getting worried we'd need to adjust the intermission segment."

"Sorry about cutting it close," Lauren apologized. "Emergency case at the shelter. Three surgeries back-to-back."

Something like genuine respect flickered across Stephanie's professional facade. "That's actually remarkable. I'm sure Jax will be relieved you made it." She handed Lauren a laminated pass. "This will get you to your seat. Alicia will find you before second intermission for the interview prep."

Lauren nodded, suddenly acutely aware of the glances from arena staff as she followed Stephanie through the concourse. People were looking at her differently—some with curiosity, others with recognition, a few with barely disguised scrutiny.

"Have you seen the article?" she asked Stephanie quietly.

The PR director's hesitation was answer enough. "Unfortunately, yes. Some reporter jumped the gun ahead of tonight's official announcement. Not ideal timing, but not unexpected either." She offered a practiced smile. "Don't worry about it. Just focus on the service dog program during the interview."

As they reached Lauren's section, Stephanie lowered her voice. "One piece of advice—the camera catches everything. Whatever is or isn't between you and Jax, people will be watching for it tonight."

With that sobering reminder, Lauren made her way to her seat, where Barb was already waiting, an enormous pretzel in one hand and a beer in the other.

"You made it!" Barb exclaimed, giving her a quick once-over. "Nice dress choice. How were the surgeries?"

"Intense," Lauren admitted, settling into her seat as Philadelphia scored, drawing groans from the crowd. "What did I miss?"

Barb filled her in quickly—the Chill had started strong but given up a goal in the final minutes of the first period. "And your boy is playing like he's got something to prove. No fights, but he's laid out half their forwards with clean hits."

Lauren scanned the ice until she spotted number 67. Jax was at the bench, receiving instructions from Coach Vicky, his size and presence commanding even from a distance. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced toward the stands, his eyes finding hers with unerring accuracy despite the arena's size.

Something electric passed between them—recognition, acknowledgment, relief—before he returned his attention to the game. But that brief connection settled something in Lauren's chest, a reminder of what was real beneath the speculation and public interest.

"There's an article," she told Barb, passing her phone over. "Already making assumptions about us."

Barb skimmed it, her expression darkening. "Well, that's bullshit. 'Softening his image'? Please. Anyone who's seen him with those shelter animals knows it's not an act."

"I know that," Lauren said. "But the rest of the world doesn't."

"So you show them," Barb replied simply. "Starting tonight."

On the ice, play had resumed, and Lauren watched with new eyes as Jax moved through his domain. There was a fluidity to his skating that belied his size, a controlled power in each stride. When he delivered a thunderous check that separated a Phantom from the puck, the crowd around them surged to their feet with a collective roar.

"He's so good," a man behind them said to his companion. "Thompson's playing at another level tonight."

"Best I've seen him all season," his friend agreed. "That hit on Williams was textbook."

Lauren absorbed these casual assessments, struck by the respect in their voices. She'd been so focused on Jax's enforcer reputation that she'd underappreciated his skill as a hockey player—the strategic positioning, the precise timing of his defensive plays, the clean, powerful checks that stayed just within the rules.

During a TV timeout, the jumbotron displayed player stats, and Lauren noted with surprise that Jax had logged more ice time than any other defender—a tangible measure of his value to the team beyond physical intimidation.

"You're doing what?" Barb's voice rose an octave as she stared at Lauren during the break.

"Giving an interview about the service dog program during the second intermission," Lauren repeated calmly, though the butterflies in her stomach belied her composed exterior. "It's a great opportunity for the shelter."

"With Jax," Barb clarified, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "On camera. In front of twenty thousand hockey fans and whoever's watching the broadcast."

"Yes," Lauren confirmed, smoothing her dress nervously. "It's professional, Barb. We're discussing a service dog initiative and highlighting adopting regular dogs for the shelter."

"Uh-huh," Barb nodded skeptically. "And the fact that half the arena already thinks you're dating the team's enforcer doesn't complicate this at all?"

Lauren sighed, unable to entirely dismiss her friend's concern. "Look, we knew this was going to become public eventually. At least this way, the focus is primarily on the dogs."

"So you're officially acknowledging that there's something to become public?" Barb pressed, her expression shifting from skepticism to delight. "Lauren Mackenzie, are you actually admitting you're in a relationship?"

Heat crept up Lauren's neck. "We haven't exactly defined it," she hedged. "But yes, there's definitely... something."

"Something," Barb repeated, her grin widening. "Like, staying-over-at-each-other's-places something? Texting-all-day something? Meeting-the-teammates something?"

"All of the above," Lauren admitted. "But that's not what tonight is about. This is about the shelter dogs."

"Of course it is," Barb agreed with exaggerated solemnity. "Absolutely nothing to do with supporting your mountain man in a critical game against the team whose player he decked in that viral video."

Lauren rolled her eyes, though Barb's assessment wasn't entirely wrong. While the service dog program was genuinely important, she couldn't deny that being there for Jax during what promised to be a challenging game factored into her decision to accept the interview request.

"The service dog announcement is just good timing. A lot of people will be watching the game. Adoptions for the shelter could go through the roof."

"And the fact that you'll be openly associating with Jax in public for the first time is just a coincidence," Barb said dryly.

Before Lauren could respond, her phone chimed with a text from Stephanie with final details about the evening: procedure for the interview, suggested talking points, a reminder to smile.

"This is really happening," Lauren murmured, a flutter of nerves rising in her chest. She was a veterinarian, not a public figure. Her experience with cameras was limited to occasional local news segments about pet health, not arena jumbotrons and sports broadcasts.

"Second thoughts?" Barb asked, her teasing tone softening to genuine concern.

Lauren considered the question seriously. Was she ready for this step? For the inevitable speculation, the potential scrutiny that came with being linked to a professional athlete? For having whatever was developing between her and Jax subjected to public curiosity?

"No," she said finally, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice. "It's worth it. He's worth it."

Barb's expression shifted to something softer, more affectionate. "Look at you, all grown up and taking relationship risks," she said, though the teasing words carried genuine approval. "For what it's worth, I think Mountain Man is pretty worth it too. Especially after seeing him at the shelter."

The reminder of how gentle Jax had been with Charlie, how supportive he'd been of Oliver, settled Lauren's nerves somewhat. That was the man she was choosing to associate herself with publicly—not just the enforcer, but the thoughtful, compassionate man beneath the tough exterior.

The energy in the arena intensified as the second period progressed. Whether it was the rivalry with Philadelphia, the playoff implications, or simply the heightened intensity of late-season hockey, the crowd seemed louder, more engaged, the atmosphere electric with anticipation.

Lauren watched as both teams battled for control, the deliberate separation between rivals obvious even to her now-experienced eye. Every time Jax was on the ice, a perceptible shift occurred—Philly players gave him extra space, teammates stood taller in his presence, fans leaned forward in anticipation.

She spotted number 22 on the Phantoms—Brady Wilson, the player whose cheap shot on Ethan had triggered Jax's viral fight. There was something calculated in his movements, a deliberate swagger as he skated near the center line, eyes scanning the Chill players with obvious challenge.

"Dr. Mackenzie?" a voice interrupted her observations. Lauren turned to find a young woman in Chill-branded attire smiling professionally. "I'm Alicia from Media Relations. Stephanie asked me to check that you're all set for the intermission interview."

"Yes, thank you," Lauren confirmed, adjusting the lanyard around her neck that identified her as an official team guest. "Just a bit nervous about the camera part."

Alicia's smile turned sympathetic. "You'll do great. It's just a few questions about the service dog program, very straightforward. Jax is a pro at these things—he'll make it smooth."

The casual confidence in Jax's media abilities struck Lauren as incongruous with his usually reserved demeanor, a reminder of how much of his life was spent in the public eye. Of course he was accustomed to cameras and interviews. It was part of his job, a side of him she was only beginning to fully appreciate.

"I'll come find you near the end of the second period," Alicia explained. "We'll have you miked and ready during the zamboni break."

As the young woman departed, Lauren's attention returned to the game. The Chill had tied the score, creating a tense back-and-forth that heightened the already charged atmosphere.

With five minutes left in the period, the crowd's energy suddenly spiked as Wilson delivered a vicious hit on Oliver, sending him sprawling across the ice. A collective growl rumbled through the arena, eyes immediately seeking Jax's reaction.

"Thompson's gonna murder him," a fan behind Lauren predicted with disturbing enthusiasm.

Instead, Jax helped Oliver to his feet, spoke briefly to him, and then skated to his position—controlled, professional, but with a dangerous edge to his movements that wasn't lost on anyone watching. Even from the stands, Lauren could see the calculation in his restraint, the strategic decision not to engage directly.

The rest of the period passed in a blur of tension, ending still tied 1-1. As promised, Alicia appeared to escort Lauren to the broadcast position. They navigated through service corridors, the roar of the crowd growing more distant as they moved behind the scenes of the arena.

"Nervous?" Alicia asked kindly as she attached a small microphone to Lauren's collar.

"A bit," Lauren admitted. "I'm more comfortable with four-legged patients than cameras."

Alicia laughed. "You'll be fine. Jax specifically requested you for this segment, you know. He usually avoids these interviews like the plague."

The casual revelation sent a warm flutter through Lauren's chest. "He did?"

"Oh yes. When Stephanie proposed the service dog program announcement, he insisted you should be the one representing the shelter side." Alicia adjusted the microphone pack discreetly at Lauren's back. "Between us, he's spoken more about you and those shelter animals in the past month than he's said in press conferences all season."

Before Lauren could process this, Jax himself appeared, still in his game uniform minus his helmet, his hair damp with sweat but otherwise looking remarkably composed for someone who'd just played forty minutes of intense hockey.

"Hey," he said simply as he joined her, his voice pitched low beneath the arena noise. "You made it."

There was relief in his eyes, a warmth that created a pocket of intimacy despite the bustling activity around them.

"Sorry I was late," Lauren said quietly. "The surgeries took longer than expected."

"You're here now," Jax replied, his gaze holding hers. "That's what matters." He stepped closer, their shoulders nearly touching. "You saved them?"

"The worst cases, yes. The German Shepherd was touch and go for a while, but he pulled through."

Something like pride flickered across Jax's face. "Of course he did. He had you."

The simple confidence in her abilities touched Lauren deeply. Before she could respond, Jax leaned down slightly, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "You look beautiful, by the way. That color suits you."

The intimate comment in such a public setting sent heat rushing to her cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured, hyperaware of how close they were standing, of the curious glances from nearby staff.

"Did you see the article?" Jax asked, his voice still pitched for her ears alone.

"I did," she confirmed, studying his reaction. "Did it bother you?"

"Only the part suggesting this isn't real," he replied, his gaze intensifying. His fingers brushed against hers, hidden from view between their bodies—a secret touch, deliberate and grounding. "The rest is just noise."

Before Lauren could respond, they were called to their positions for the interview. As cameras prepared to go live, Jax's hand briefly squeezed hers, his touch lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary before he shifted into his public persona.

"And we're back with a special announcement from the Charm City Chill," Bill began smoothly as cameras focused on their small group. "I'm joined by defenseman Jackson Thompson and Dr. Lauren Mackenzie of New Haven Emergency Veterinary Clinic to discuss an exciting new community partnership. Jax, tell us about this initiative."

Jax shifted seamlessly into what Lauren recognized as his public persona—still reserved, but more articulate and open than his usual demeanor.

"The team is partnering with Parkside Animal Rescue to bring service dogs in training to home games," he explained. "Fans might have noticed them at our game against Toronto. The dogs get valuable public exposure training, and the arena gets additional support for their security team."

"Dr. Mackenzie, as both a veterinarian and shelter volunteer, how important is this kind of public training opportunity?" Bill directed his next question to Lauren.

Taking a deep breath, Lauren channeled her professional confidence. "It's invaluable," she replied. "Service dogs need to learn to function in high-stimulation environments, and there's nothing quite like a hockey arena for that training. Plus, the public visibility increases awareness of the shelter's adoption and service programs."

"Now, I understand there's a personal connection here," Bill continued, his expression pleasantly curious. "Jax, you've been volunteering with Parkside Animal Rescue for some time, correct?"

"Five years now," Jax confirmed. "Primarily working with dogs that need additional behavioral support or rehabilitation. The shelter does incredible work with limited resources, so this partnership is meaningful on multiple levels."

Lauren admired his poise, the way he kept the focus on the program rather than any personal angle the interviewer might be fishing for. It was all she could do to keep her knees from knocking from the sheer presence of the crowd surrounding them.

"And Dr. Mackenzie, you first connected with Jax through veterinary care for a rescued animal?" Bill prompted.

"Yes," Lauren confirmed, sticking to the simple truth. "Jax brought in an injured kitten he'd found near the arena."

"A fortunate coincidence that's turned into a community benefit," Bill summarized smoothly. "The service dogs will be at all home games next season, and fans can learn more about the adoption program at information tables on the concourse. Jax, Dr. Mackenzie, thank you both. And now back to the action, with the third period about to begin."

As the camera lights dimmed, Lauren exhaled slowly, relieved that the interview had remained focused on the program rather than personal speculation.

"You were great," Jax said as he helped her down from the platform, his hand at the small of her back, steady and warm. "Natural."

"Thanks," Lauren replied. "You clearly have more practice at this than I do."

"Media training is part of the job. Though usually I'm talking about forechecking, not service dogs."

Alicia appeared at Lauren's elbow. "That was perfect," she enthused. "Dr. Mackenzie, I'll escort you back to your seat. Jax, Coach is looking for you."

Jax nodded, his expression shifting back to game-mode focus. Before turning to go, however, he leaned down, his lips brushing against her cheek in a gesture that was unmistakably intimate.

"Still on for after?" he asked, his voice low.

"Absolutely," she confirmed. "Win or lose."

Something in his expression softened momentarily. "Having you here makes all the difference," he said quietly, the words meant only for her. "No matter what happens on the ice."

The unexpected vulnerability in his admission sent warmth blooming through her chest. "Go finish what you started," she encouraged, squeezing his arm. "I'll be watching."

As Alicia led her back through the corridors, Lauren noticed increased attention from arena staff and the occasional fan—curious glances, whispered comments, small smiles. The interview had been professional, but their connection hadn't gone unnoticed.

A group of women in Chill jerseys spotted her, their expressions lighting with recognition. One nudged another, whispering something that made her companion glance between Lauren and the tunnel where Jax had disappeared.

"Guess the secret's out," Alicia commented with a knowing smile. "Fair warning—you might want to lock down your social media profiles if you haven't already. Hockey fans can be... enthusiastic."

By the time Lauren squeezed past knees and boots to reclaim her seat, her phone was buzzing with notifications—text messages from friends who'd seen the interview, social media alerts, and emails from colleagues.

"You two looked cozy," Barb observed, sliding a beer toward her. "That little cheek kiss was definitely caught on camera, by the way. It's already on Twitter."

Lauren pulled out her phone to find Barb was right—someone had posted a clip of the moment Jax had leaned down to kiss her cheek, captioned with: Thompson's got something to play for beyond playoffs tonight #ChillCoup

The post already had thousands of retweets.

"Congratulations," Barb whispered, nudging her ribs. "You're officially hockey WAG material now."

"What's that?"

"Wives and girlfriends."

"I'm not a WAG," Lauren hissed back, though the denial felt hollow even to her own ears. The joint interview had made something previously private unmistakably public.

A man three rows back was staring at her phone screen, his brow furrowed in recognition. "Hey, you're the dog lady from the intermission. With Thompson."

Several heads turned. A woman whispered something to her companion, both glancing between Lauren and the ice where players were beginning to emerge for the third period.

"Quick, check Twitter," Barb said, looking at her own phone with widening eyes. "The hashtag #ThompsonsTamer is trending."

"What?" Lauren snatched Barb's phone, scrolling through a feed of comments and memes already forming around her brief TV appearance.

Who had "hockey's scariest enforcer dates animal doctor" on their 2023 bingo card? #ThompsonsTamer

That look he gave her tho. Big man's WHIPPED. #ThompsonsTamer

Anyone else notice how he hasn't fought since dating her? Lady's got him on a leash! #ThompsonsTamer

Lauren's stomach twisted uncomfortably. This wasn't just friendly interest—there was judgment embedded in the commentary, assumptions about their relationship, about Jax's performance, about her influence.

"Ignore it," Barb advised, taking her phone back. "Social media is a cesspool. Focus on what's real."

What was real was the game unfolding before them, the players battling for playoff position with increasing intensity. The teams lined up for the face-off, the scoreboard's 1-1 glowing accusingly above. Each check finished harder than the last as minutes ticked away, players battling along the boards with escalating desperation. Lauren flinched as bodies collided, the sounds of impact carrying even to the stands.

"Come on, Thompson!" shouted a red-faced man clutching a beer. "Wilson's been asking for it all night!"

"Yeah, drop the gloves already!" another fan joined in. "Show some balls!"

Lauren's stomach twisted. These people wanted blood—Jax's or Wilson's, it didn't seem to matter.

The breaking point came with four minutes left on the clock. Wilson charged across the ice, targeting Kane with a shoulder that sent the captain crashing into the partition between benches. His helmet bounced against the glass, the sound making Lauren flinch.

The crowd surged to its feet, beer sloshing and curses flying. Lauren rose with them, heart hammering against her ribs as Jax glided toward the scene. His shoulders were set in that way she'd come to recognize—tense, controlled power, like a predator stalking prey.

"Kill him, Thompson!" screamed the man behind her, so close she could smell the beer on his breath.

But Jax didn't engage Wilson. Instead, he crouched beside Kane, helping him to his feet with a steadying hand. They had a brief conversation on the ice before Kane shook Jax off.

Boos cascaded down from the upper sections.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the red-faced fan bellowed. "That's your captain he just demolished!"

"Thompson's gone soft!" someone else shouted.

"Fucking PR bullshit!"

Lauren's fingers curled into fists. These people didn't know Jax—didn't understand what it cost him to skate away. Her throat tightened with an emotion she couldn't quite name.

"Now they have a power play," she said, the words escaping before she could stop them. Wilson was out for the remaining minutes of the game.

The man behind her scoffed. "We didn't pay to watch him play smart. We paid to watch him do his job."

"His job is to play hockey," Lauren snapped, surprising herself with the heat in her voice. "Not satisfy your bloodlust."

Barb's eyebrows shot up. "Easy, tiger. These are the same guys who'll be buying those service dog calendars next month."

Lauren subsided, but her eyes remained locked on Jax. Between whistles, she caught him scanning the crowd. Looking for her? The thought sent an unexpected flutter through her chest.

With three minutes left, the deadlock finally broke. Marcus snatched a pass at the Chill blue line, then launched the puck up-ice to Kane who streaked in alone. The captain's hands moved in a blur—backhand, forehand—before the puck whistled into the top corner.

Revenge was sweet.

The arena detonated. Bodies jumped and swayed around Lauren as Kane was mobbed against the boards, his teammates piling on him in a frenzy of blue jerseys and flying gloves.

"That's hockey, baby!" Barb shouted over the din, high-fiving a stranger to her right.

The Phantoms yanked their goalie with a minute left, sending five attackers swarming into the Chill zone. Lauren's nails dug crescents into her palms as the puck pinballed between sticks and skates. Sixty seconds suddenly stretched like hours.

It looked like the Philly offense was taking a team picture in the Chill crease. They battled, skated, passed the puck out to the center who was waiting for it.

Lauren's breath caught. The crowd's roar faded to a dull throb in her ears. Philly's center's stick rose, Sven lunged desperately—

And then there was Jax, launching himself across the ice in a horizontal dive, his stick extended like a javelin. The puck deflected off his blade, skittering harmlessly away as the buzzer wailed.

The crowd exploded, their earlier frustration forgotten in the ecstasy of victory. All around her, strangers hugged and high-fived, the arena vibrating with collective joy.

Lauren cheered with them, her throat raw and her heart thundering. On the ice, Jax was buried beneath his teammates, only to emerge seconds later, scanning the stands until his eyes found hers.

Even from thirty feet away, his smile hit her like a freight train, stealing what little breath she had left. His gloved hand came up in a subtle gesture—fingers to his heart, then pointing toward her. Not a showman's move, but an intimate acknowledgment meant for her alone.

She returned the gesture, aware of the eyes watching them, of the phones likely capturing the moment, and finding she didn't care. Let them look. Let them whisper.

Some victories didn't show up on the scoreboard.

As the teams lined up for the traditional handshake, Lauren watched Wilson approach Jax with obvious reluctance. Whatever words passed between them were too distant to hear, but Jax's posture remained composed, professional despite what must have been significant provocation.

"I've never seen players clear a path like that for anyone," a woman nearby commented as Jax made his way down the handshake line. "It's like they're afraid to get too close."

"That's respect," her companion replied. "Thompson could end any of their seasons with one hit, and they know it."

The casual assessment of Jax's power on the ice—not just physical strength, but the authority his mere presence commanded—struck Lauren with new clarity. This wasn't just intimidation; it was a form of earned respect, even from opponents.

When the players finally headed toward the locker room, Lauren gathered her things, preparing for the now-familiar wait while Jax completed his post-game routine. Her phone buzzed with multiple notifications, including one from a sports blog already analyzing the game:

Thompson's Restraint Proves Decisive in Chill Victory

The subtitle caught her eye:

Has hockey's most notorious enforcer turned over a new leaf? Sources close to the team cite veterinarian girlfriend's influence as potential factor in Thompson's evolving play style.

Lauren frowned, unsettled by the narrative being constructed around them. Before she could read further, another text arrived, this one from Kane:

What's up, Doc? Great interview tonight. A few of us are grabbing a quick drink at O'Malley's to celebrate. Any chance you and Jax could join? Team would love to thank you properly for the service dog program.

Lauren hesitated, uncertain how to respond. She and Jax had scheduled their own private celebration, but she didn't want to deprive him of his team's celebration.

Before she could decide, another text arrived, this one from Jax:

Kane's asking about O'Malley's. Absolutely no pressure. We can stick to our original plan if you prefer.

Lauren glanced at the blog article again, then at the social media notifications still flooding her phone. Going to a public bar with Jax and his teammates would only fuel the speculation, increase their visibility as a couple.

And yet, she realized with sudden clarity, she wasn't ashamed or concerned about being seen with him. Whatever narratives people constructed around them were just that—narratives. They didn't touch the reality of what was developing between them.

Let's do both , she replied. Quick celebration with the team, then back to my place?

His response came quickly: Perfect. Wait for me by the family exit and we'll go together.

As Lauren and Barb made their way through the departing crowd, she noticed people watching her, some pointing discreetly, others openly staring. A young woman in a Thompson jersey caught her eye and gave her a thumbs up, while an older man scowled as she passed.

"Welcome to life in the public eye," Barb murmured. "You ready for this?"

Lauren thought of Jax—his gentle hands with injured animals, his steady presence in her life, the vulnerability he showed only to her—and knew her answer.

"Yes," she said simply. "For him, I am."