Page 109 of The Sin Bin

"Best risk I ever took," she replied with a smile.

Jax laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "And here I thought I was the one who got lucky."

"I'll leave the hockey terminology to you, but I think we both won this one."

He kissed her then, slow and thorough, as the sun slipped below the horizon and their friends' voices created a distant soundtrack of laughter and conversation.

"I love you," Jax murmured against her lips. "Every day, more than the day before."

"I love you too," Lauren replied. "Enforcer, defenseman, fiancé—every version of you."

From behind them, Oliver's voice called out, "Hey lovebirds! We're starting the bonfire. Bring the s'mores stuff from the kitchen."

Jax grinned against her lips. "Duty calls. Can't disappoint the family."

As they walked back toward the house hand in hand, Lauren felt a deep contentment. This noisy, loyal, sometimes chaotic hockey family had become hers too. She'd gone from being the woman who avoided hockey players to the one who couldn't imagine life without this particular group of them.

Later, as the party wound down and guests gathered around the bonfire, Lauren noticed Stephanie Ellis, the Chill's PR director, in what appeared to be a heated discussion with Marcus by the edge of the firelight. Stephanie's normally composed professional demeanor had slipped, her gestures sharp and agitated while Marcus maintained his characteristic analytical calm.

"That doesn't look good," Lauren observed quietly to Jax as they gathered empty bottles.

Jax followed her gaze, his eyebrows rising slightly. "Adeyemi and Ellis? Didn't know they even talked outside of media obligations."

"They don't usually," Lauren replied, unable to look away from the unfolding drama. "Something's definitely wrong."

They were too far away to hear the conversation clearly, but Stephanie's voice carried occasionally—phrases like "completely undermined months of work" and "player contracts at stake" cutting through the evening air.

"Should we intervene?" Lauren whispered, concerned by the escalating tension.

"No way," Jax replied, shaking his head. "Marcus handles conflict the same way he handles his defensive zone coverage. Trust me, he's got a game plan."

As they watched, Stephanie thrust what looked like a tablet into Marcus's hands, jabbing her finger at the screen. Marcus studied whatever she was showing him, his expression transitioning from composed analysis to what might have been surprise—a rare crack in his impassive facade.

"I couldn't care less about your statistical models," they heard Stephanie say, her voice now clear in the quiet evening. "The damage is done. Three players with contract negotiations now have your analytics working against them. Fix it, Marcus."

She turned on her heel, striding toward her car with the controlled fury of someone barely containing their anger. Marcus stood completely still for a moment, staring at the tablet in his hands before looking up to watch her departure.

To Lauren's surprise, Marcus suddenly moved, calling after Stephanie with uncharacteristic urgency. "Your conclusion is based on incomplete data sets," he insisted, his voice carrying across the yard. "Look, I get you're pissed, but these numbers don't lie, Stephanie. If you would just look at the probability factors—"

"I don't need your probability factors!" Stephanie spun around, cutting him off. "I need you to stop releasing player analytics to The Athletic without going through PR first. This isn't just about your precious data, Marcus. These are people's careers—their livelihoods—that you've potentially tanked."

The raw emotion in her voice silenced even Marcus, who stood with the tablet clutched in his hands, looking as close to flustered as Lauren had ever seen him.

"Not every decision in hockey should be made by a spreadsheet," Stephanie added, quieter now but no less intense. "Some of these guys have families, injuries you don't know about, personal situations your numbers don't capture. Did you ever think about that before you published your little 'Moneyball' hockey experiment?"

With that parting shot, she got into her car and drove away, gravel spraying slightly under her tires. Marcus remained motionless for several seconds before his shoulders dropped a fraction—a tell of frustration that seemed significant from someone so controlled.

Dmitri appeared beside them, handing them fresh beers. "Ah, the statistical robot and the media witch are fighting again. Is normal."

"Normal?" Lauren asked.

"Those two?" Dmitri grinned. "Fight like this since training camp last year. He says numbers, she says stories. Both too stubborn to see they want same thing." He winked at Lauren. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Something's definitely happening between those two," Lauren mused, watching as Marcus rejoined the group, his usual composure slightly frayed around the edges.

"Ten bucks says they kill each other before training camp," Jax wagered with a grin.

Lauren studied the stiff set of Marcus's shoulders as he spoke with Kane across the yard, remembering the flash of real emotion she'd glimpsed on his face when Stephanie drove away.

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