Page 7

J ax

The locker room felt like a funeral home. Liam's empty stall loomed like an open wound, the silence heavy with unspoken fears. Coach Vicky stood at the center of the room, her usual commanding presence muted by exhaustion.

"MRI results just came in," she announced without preamble. "ACL tear, grade three. Liam's done for the season."

The news sucked all the life out of the room, even though they'd all been bracing for it since watching their starting tendy helped off the ice. Eight years in the league had taught Jax that momentum could vanish in a heartbeat, playoff dreams derailed by a single twisted knee.

"What's the timeline for recovery?" Marcus asked, ever the analytical one.

"Surgery next week, then six to nine months rehabilitation," Vicky replied. "Best case scenario, he's back for training camp in September."

Kane ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the gesture. "And what's the office saying?"

"Sven gets the crease tomorrow against Montreal," Vicky said, nodding toward the backup goalie who sat straighter at the mention of his name. "They're looking at trade options, but with the deadline a week away, we're not dealing from a position of strength."

The implications were clear. Teams would demand a premium knowing the Chill were desperate. Any significant addition would cost valuable assets—draft picks, prospects, maybe even a roster player.

"We can make this work," Kane insisted, looking around the room with the confidence that made him a natural captain. "Sven's solid between the pipes. We just need to buckle down defensively, block more shots, keep the high-danger chances to a minimum."

Dmitri nodded vigorously. "You stop pucks, I score goals. Problem solved."

The Russian's unwavering confidence drew a few much-needed chuckles from the team. Even Sven managed a nervous smile.

"We got your back, man," Ethan said, giving the Swedish goalie a fist bump. "All of us."

Jax watched the team rally around Sven, the instinctive way they closed ranks around the vulnerable member of their pack. In moments like these, the bond between them transcended mere professional obligations. They were brothers in everything but blood.

"Jax," Coach Vicky's voice cut through his thoughts. "A word in private?"

He followed her to the coaches' room, aware of the curious glances from his teammates.

"Close the door," Vicky instructed, settling into her chair with a weariness she rarely displayed. "How's Chenny doing?"

"Better," Jax replied. "I had a friend take him home."

Vicky's eyebrow rose slightly at "friend," but she didn't comment. "The beat guys are sniffing around. They noticed he was benched after warm-ups with no apparent injury."

"What did PR tell them?"

"Stomach bug," Vicky said with a dismissive wave. "Standard bullshit. But if this becomes a pattern..." She left the implication hanging.

Jax understood the unspoken concern. Professional sports remained an environment where mental health issues were often viewed as weaknesses rather than legitimate medical conditions.

"He's working through it," Jax said carefully. "The medication adjustment has been rough, but he's seeing someone."

Vicky nodded, then shifted gears. "That's not the only reason I wanted to talk. The suits upstairs had a meeting this afternoon with the league office about Montreal."

He had retaliated for a few slashes and slew footing with submarines and elbows. Sure there were penalties, but no blood. No broken bones. Jax's stomach tightened anyway. "And?"

"They think we crossed some lines in terms of optics. They've made it clear that any similar bullshit will result in a significant suspension."

"So I'm supposed to let them run our guys?" Jax couldn't keep the edge from his voice.

"You're supposed to protect your teammates while staying within the rules," Vicky corrected. "Like you did tonight. That was good work, Jax. Smart hockey."

The praise should have felt satisfying, but all Jax could think about was the final score. "We still shit the bed."

"One game," Vicky acknowledged. "But I need you focused on the bigger picture. With Liam on LTIR, we're going to need a D-system that gives Sven a fighting chance without sacrificing offense."

Something in her tone made Jax study her more carefully. "You sound like you have a specific role for me in mind."

A hint of a smile crossed Vicky's face. "Adeyemi's been analyzing your zone coverage numbers. Did you know you've been our most effective D'man at shot suppression this season?"

Jax blinked in surprise. "No."

"Because everyone—including you—is too focused on the enforcer role to notice you've become a damn good defensive defenseman," Vicky said. "I'm bumping your minutes, starting tomorrow. Less fourth line energy shifts, more PK time, more matchups against top lines."

The suggestion caught him off guard. For eight years, his identity had been tied to a singular role—the protector, the punishment, the deterrent. The idea of being valued for something else, something more, was both appealing and terrifying.

"You think I can handle those minutes?" he asked, hating the thread of uncertainty in his voice.

Vicky's gaze sharpened. "I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't. But I need to know if you're buying in. This is a shift in how we deploy you, how the boys see you. It won't be an easy transition."

Jax thought of Lauren in the stands, watching him choose restraint over retribution. Of her text after the game: You did everything right tonight. For the first time in his career, someone was seeing him as more than just his fists, valuing the choices that didn't lead to penalties and viral videos.

"I'm in," he said firmly. "Whatever the team needs."

Vicky nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, about this friend who took Chenny home." Her tone shifted, becoming almost casual. "The blond who's been at the last few home games? The one Norris says you've been comping tickets for?"

Jax fought the urge to squirm like a rookie caught sneaking out after curfew. "Dr. Mackenzie. She's a veterinarian."

"A veterinarian," Vicky repeated, amusement flickering in her eyes. "And she's attending hockey games because...?"

"Professional interest in sports injuries," Jax offered, the excuse sounding weak even to his own ears.

Vicky's laugh was short but genuine. "Eight years coaching you, Thompson, and that's the worst bullshit you've ever told me. But it's your business." Her expression softened slightly. "Just be careful. The media vultures are already circling. A new girlfriend would be catnip for them, especially during a playoff push."

"It's not—" Jax began, then stopped himself. Was that even true anymore? The daily texts, the shared care for Penalty, the trust that had led him to ask for her help with Oliver tonight—it was becoming something important.

"It's complicated," he finished lamely.

"Isn't it always," Vicky said with unexpected sympathy. "Just make sure whatever it is doesn't fuck with what we're trying to accomplish here. These next few weeks are going to determine whether we're golfing in April or making a run."

"Understood," Jax replied, recognizing the shift back to coach-player dynamics.

As he turned to leave, Vicky added, "And Thompson? The charity casino night next Saturday—the one for the team foundation. Bring her. Might as well get the media speculation over with on our terms."

Jax paused, hand on the doorknob. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"No," Vicky admitted with a shrug. "But it's better than having them catch you two sneaking around like teenagers. Plus, I'd like to meet the woman who's got my most reliable defenseman checking his phone every five minutes."

Jax's ears burned, but he nodded. "I'll ask her."

"Good. Now go ice those ribs. You look like you went ten rounds with a meat grinder."

"Just playing smart hockey, Coach," Jax replied with a hint of a smile.

"Smart ass," Vicky muttered, but there was genuine affection in her tone. "Get out of here. Big day tomorrow."

When Jax returned to the locker room, most of the team had cleared out. Only Kane remained, meticulously wrapping tape around a stick blade despite the late hour. Their captain was known for his pre-game rituals, a superstitious streak that had only intensified during his years wearing the C.

"Everything good with Coach?" Kane asked without looking up from his work.

"Yeah. She's bumping my minutes. More shutdown role, less enforcer shit."

Kane nodded approvingly. "Smart move. You've been solid defensively all season." He finished the tape job, setting the stick aside. "So, veterinarian, huh?"

Jax's head snapped up. "What?"

"Your girl. The blonde. Dmitri said she's a vet." Kane's expression was neutral, but his eyes held a knowing gleam. "She's been at what, three games now?"

"Yeah. Something like that." Jax busied himself with his gear bag, suddenly intensely interested in its organization.

Kane waited, the silence stretching between them until Jax finally looked up to find his captain watching him with barely concealed amusement.

"What?" Jax demanded.

"Nothing," Kane shrugged. "Just never seen you like this before."

"Like what?"

"Nervous. Checking your phone every two minutes. Actually smiling at texts." Kane leaned back against his stall. "It's weird, man. But good weird."

Jax exhaled slowly, running a hand over his shaved head. "I don't know what I'm doing, K," he admitted quietly. "She's smart. Professional. Way out of my league."

"Because you punch people for a living?" Kane asked, surprisingly perceptive.

"That's part of it."

"But not all of it." It wasn't a question.

Jax stared at his taped knuckles, the perpetual marks of his profession. "She's got this whole life figured out. Her career, her boundaries... she's got her shit together. And me? Hockey's all I've ever had. When this is done?" He shrugged, the gesture encompassing all his unspoken fears about the future. "What the hell do I offer someone like that?"

Kane was quiet for a moment, considering. "You know, Allison asked me that once—what I'd do after hockey. I gave her some bullshit answer about broadcasting or coaching. She saw right through it."

"What'd she say?"

"She said, 'That's what you'd do. I asked who you'd be.'" Kane smiled at the memory. "Fucked me up for weeks. But she was right. We get so caught up in the identity of 'hockey player' that we forget it's just a job, not who we are."

"And what brilliant insight did you have?" Jax asked, only half joking.

"That I'm still figuring it out. But having someone who sees you—the real you, not just the player—that's worth whatever scary shit comes with it." Kane stood, clapping Jax on the shoulder. "I've seen how you look at her, man. And I've seen how you've been playing differently since she showed up. Maybe she sees something in you that you don't."

Jax absorbed his captain's words, surprised by the depth of insight from the usually guarded Kane. "When'd you get so philosophical?"

"Allison's got me reading self-help books," Kane admitted with a sheepish grin. "Don't tell the guys or I'll never hear the end of it."

"Your secret's safe," Jax promised with a laugh. "Thanks, K."

"Anytime. That's what family's for." Kane grabbed his bag. "Now, you want a ride or what? Your place is on my way."

An hour later, Jax unlocked the door to his apartment, exhaustion settling deep into his bones. The place was dark except for the small lamp he always left on for Penalty, who came trotting out to greet him, his splinted leg barely slowing him down.

"Hey, troublemaker," Jax murmured, scooping up the kitten who immediately began purring against his chest. "Miss me?"

He settled onto his couch, Penalty curled in his lap, and pulled out his phone. A new text from Lauren had arrived during his drive home: Just got home. Thinking about everything tonight. You're a good teammate, Jax. Hope you know that.

Something warm unfurled in his chest, a counterpoint to the weight of the day's events. Without overthinking it, he typed: I'm glad you were there tonight.

Her response came quickly: Me too. Even with the loss.

Jax hesitated, then added: Team's having a charity casino night next Saturday. Mandatory for players. Would you want to come? As my guest?

The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, then reappeared, each fluctuation sending a wave of anxiety through him. Finally: I'd like that. Text me the details?

Relief flooded through him, followed by a surprising surge of anticipation. Will do. Goodnight, Lauren.

Goodnight, Jax.

Penalty batted at his phone, demanding attention. Jax set it aside, scratching behind the kitten's ears. "Yeah, I like her too, buddy," he murmured. "A lot."

As if on cue, his phone rang—Lauren's name lighting up the screen. Surprised, he answered immediately.

"Hey, everything okay?"

"Yes, sorry, I just..." her voice sounded slightly breathless. "I realized I still have your team jacket from when you let me borrow it at the shelter the other day. I noticed it in my car when I got home."

"Oh," Jax said, oddly touched that she'd call about something so small. "Don't worry about it. You can just bring it next time we see each other."

"Actually, I was thinking... I'm still awake, and it's not that late. I could drop it by your place if you want? I remember Oliver mentioned you live in his building."

Jax's heart rate kicked up a notch. "Yeah, that'd be fine. I'm just hanging out with Penalty. You remember the address?"

"I think so. The high-rise on Harbor Street?"

"That's it. Apartment 1403. I'll let the security desk know you're coming."

"Great. I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

The call ended, and Jax stared at his phone, his mind racing. Lauren was coming to his apartment. Tonight. He glanced around, suddenly seeing the space through her eyes—the spartan furnishings, the hockey gear piled in the corner, the distinct bachelor pad vibe.

He spent the next fifteen minutes in a frenzy of cleaning—loading the dishwasher, clearing off the coffee table, shoving random items into closets. He'd just changed his shirt when the intercom buzzed.

"Mr. Thompson? There's a Dr. Mackenzie here to see you."

"Send her up, thanks," Jax replied, his heart hammering in his chest.

Minutes later, a knock sounded at his door. Taking a deep breath, he opened it to find Lauren standing in the hallway, his team jacket draped over her arm. She'd changed out of her arena clothes into jeans and a simple green sweater that made her eyes seem impossibly bright.

"Hi," she said, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "Sorry to drop by so late."

"No, it's fine," Jax assured her, stepping back to let her in. "Come in."

Lauren entered, her eyes taking in his apartment with undisguised curiosity. "This is nice. Much neater than I expected."

Jax laughed, relieved by her directness. "If you'd called ten minutes later, you'd have seen the real disaster zone."

She smiled, setting the jacket on a nearby chair. "Where's Penalty?"

As if summoned, the kitten came bounding from the bedroom, his splint not hampering his enthusiasm as he headed straight for Lauren.

"Well hello there," she cooed, crouching to greet him. "Look at you, getting around so well on that leg."

Jax watched her with the kitten, struck by how natural she looked in his space, how right it felt to have her here. "Can I get you something to drink? Water, beer, wine?"

"Water's fine," she replied, straightening up with Penalty in her arms. "I can't stay long. Early surgery tomorrow."

Jax nodded, heading to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. When he returned, Lauren was examining the few photos he had displayed on a bookshelf—mostly team pictures, plus one of him with his mother at his first NHL game.

"Is this your mom?" she asked, gesturing to the photo.

"Yeah," Jax handed her the water. "That was my rookie year. First NHL game."

Lauren studied the picture. "You look so young."

"Twenty-one," Jax confirmed. "Barely old enough to drink at the after-party."

"She must be proud of you," Lauren said, setting Penalty down to open her water.

Jax nodded, a familiar ache settling in his chest. "She died three years ago. Cancer."

Lauren's expression softened with immediate understanding. "I'm sorry. That's... that's hard."

"It was," Jax agreed simply. "She was the only real family I had. My dad was..." He trailed off, not wanting to bring that darkness into this moment.

"Not in the picture?" Lauren supplied gently.

"Not in a good way," Jax clarified. "He taught me all about using your size to intimidate. Lessons I've spent years trying to unlearn."

The words hung between them, more revealing than he'd intended. Lauren's eyes met his, a depth of understanding in them that made his breath catch.

"That explains a lot," she said softly.

"About why I fight?"

"About why you're so careful not to," she countered, surprising him with her perception. "About why restraint matters to you."

Jax swallowed hard, feeling oddly exposed. "The team's become my family now," he said, steering toward safer ground. "Different kind of bond, but it matters."

"I saw that tonight," Lauren said, setting her water down. "The way you watched out for Oliver, for Ethan. It's more than just being teammates."

"Hockey's weird that way. You spend more time with these guys than anyone else in your life. Share hotel rooms, long flights, wins, losses. You see each other at your best and absolute worst." Jax shrugged. "Hard not to become family after all that."

Lauren moved closer, looking up at him with genuine curiosity. "And where do I fit into all this? The charity event you mentioned... is that, um..." she hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Is that a date?"

The directness of the question caught Jax off guard, but he appreciated her straightforwardness. "I'd like it to be," he admitted. "If that's something you want."

Lauren's cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze. "I think I'd like that too."

The air between them seemed to charge with electricity. Jax was acutely aware of how close she stood, how easily he could reach out and touch her. As if reading his thoughts, Lauren moved closer still, her eyes dropping briefly to his lips.

"I should probably go," she said softly, making no move to leave.

"Probably," Jax agreed, not stepping back.

Instead, he reached out slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, and brushed that rebellious strand of hair behind her ear again. His fingers lingered, tracing the delicate curve of her jaw. Lauren's breath hitched, her eyes darkening as she leaned imperceptibly into his touch.

"Lauren," he murmured, her name a question and permission all at once.

She answered by rising onto her toes, closing the distance between them. The first brush of her lips against his was tentative, questioning. Jax remained perfectly still, letting her set the pace, hyperaware of the size difference between them, wanting her to feel completely in control.

But when her hands came up to rest on his chest, fingers curling slightly into his shirt, something broke loose inside him. He deepened the kiss, one hand sliding to her waist while the other cradled the back of her head, his touch deliberately gentle despite the hunger building inside him.

Lauren made a small sound against his mouth, pressing closer, her body melting into his. Jax felt the last of his restraint slipping as her hands moved up to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck, fingers grazing his shaved head in a touch that sent electric currents down his spine.

The kiss intensified, months of tension and attraction crystallizing into this moment. Lauren's mouth opened under his, her tongue meeting his with a boldness that made his head spin. Jax backed her slowly toward the wall, crowding her space in a way that felt possessive rather than threatening, his body curving protectively around hers.

Just as his hand slid lower, tracing the curve of her hip, a sharp pain shot through his ankle. They broke apart with startled gasps to find Penalty attacking Jax's sock-covered foot with murder in his tiny eyes.

"Shit," Jax hissed, more from surprise than pain. "Penalty! Knock it off!"

Lauren burst into laughter, the tension broken. "I think someone's jealous," she said, her voice husky and breathless in a way that made Jax want to immediately resume where they'd left off.

"Bad timing, buddy," Jax told the kitten, who looked entirely unrepentant as he continued to bat at Jax's foot.

Lauren bent to scoop up the kitten, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen from their kiss. The sight made Jax's chest tighten with a mix of desire and something deeper, something that scared him with its intensity.

"I really should go," she said, and this time she sounded like she meant it, though regret tinged her voice. "Early surgery, remember?"

Jax nodded, struggling to get his racing pulse under control. "Rain check?"

The corner of her mouth curled up in a small smile that promised everything. "Definitely."

He walked her to the door, the air between them charged with new awareness. At the threshold, Lauren paused, looking up at him with those clear green eyes.

"I'm glad I brought your jacket back tonight," she said softly.

"Me too," Jax replied, resisting the urge to pull her back into his arms.

She pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek, then slipped out the door before he could respond. "Goodnight, Jax."

"Goodnight, Lauren," he managed, watching her walk toward the elevator.

When the doors closed behind her, Jax leaned against his doorframe, blood still roaring in his ears. "Holy shit," he whispered to the empty hallway.

Back in his apartment, Penalty sat washing his paw, the picture of innocence. Jax pointed an accusing finger at the kitten. "Your timing needs work," he told him.

Penalty merely blinked at him, unconcerned.

Jax dropped onto his couch, replaying the last fifteen minutes in his head. His phone buzzed with a text.

Made it to my car. Thanks for the water. And...everything else.

Jax smiled, typing back: Anytime. Penalty sends his apologies for the interruption.

Her response made him laugh out loud: Tell Penalty his chaperone services won't be necessary next time.

Next time. The promise in those two words kept Jax grinning like an idiot long after he should have been asleep.