Page 37 of The Sin Bin

When Jax returned to her side, his expression was carefully neutral, but Lauren could see the tension in the set of his jaw, the tightness around his eyes.

"Everything okay?" she asked, knowing it wasn't.

"Fine," he replied, the clipped tone belying his words. "Just Wilson being Wilson."

"What did he want?"

Jax's eyes met hers, something dark and carefully controlled lurking in their depths. "To prove he could get to me. To show everyone he's not afraid."

"And did he? Get to you?"

The muscle in Jax's jaw ticked. "No."

But Lauren had spent enough time with frightened animals to recognize the signs of someone fighting for control. His breathing was too measured, his posture too rigid, his eyes too fixed.

"Jax," she said softly, placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay if he did."

For a moment, she thought he might brush off her concern. Instead, he exhaled slowly, some of the rigid tension leaving his shoulders.

"He brought up my father," Jax said quietly, the words clearly costing him. "Stuff that's not public knowledge."

Lauren felt a flash of anger on his behalf. "How would he even know about that?"

"Hockey's a small world. Guys talk." Jax's gaze drifted toward the exit where Wilson had disappeared. "He wanted me to throw a punch. End my career over a personal insult. Prove I'm just an out-of-control goon like everyone thinks."

"But you didn't."

"No." His eyes found hers again, something vulnerable beneath the controlled exterior. "I didn't want you to see that version of me."

The admission stole her breath. Before she could respond, Kane approached with an apologetic expression. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, genuinely looking it, "but the auction's about to start, and management wants all players front and center."

Jax nodded, reluctantly releasing Lauren but keeping one hand lightly at the small of her back. "We'll be right there."

As Kane left, Jax turned to her with regret evident in his expression. "Team obligation," he explained. "The auction's the main fundraising event of the night."

"Of course," Lauren assured him. "No apology necessary. This is a charity event, after all."

"After the auction," Jax said, his voice dropping lower, "would you want to get out of here? Maybe grab a late dinner somewhere quieter?"

The invitation sent a pleasant thrill through her, though it couldn't quite dispel the unease that Wilson's appearance had created. "I'd like that," she replied, rewarded with a smile that transformed his usually serious face.

The auction proved surprisingly entertaining, with players offering everything from signed memorabilia to exclusive experiences. Lauren watched with amusement as Dmitri auctioned off a "Russian cooking lesson" that had the female attendees bidding into the thousands, while Marcus offered a private analytics session that particularly appealed to the stats-obsessed fans.

When Jax's turn came, he stepped forward with evident discomfort at being the center of attention. "I'm offering a two-hour private defensive skills session," he announced. "For a youth player or team. Any skill level."

Lauren found herself unexpectedly moved by his choice. Not a signed jersey or a meet-and-greet, but actual time and expertise dedicated to developing young players. It spoke volumes about what he valued.

The bidding quickly escalated, ending at an impressive sum from a local youth hockey association's representative. As Jax stepped back from the microphone, his eyes found Lauren's in the crowd, a silent communication that made her heart beat faster.

As he rejoined the team, Lauren noticed Wilson had reappeared at the back of the ballroom, nursing a drink and watching the proceedings with barely disguised contempt. Security hovered nearby, clearly under instructions to keep an eye on him but unable to remove him without causing a scene.

By the time the auction concluded, it was approaching midnight. The event was still in full swing, but as promised, Jax made his way back to Lauren.

"Ready to escape?" he asked, the tension from earlier still evident in the tight set of his shoulders.

"Absolutely," she replied, surprising herself with how much she meant it.

They made their goodbyes to teammates and collected their coats, slipping out a side entrance to avoid lingering media. The March night air was crisp and cold after the warmth of the ballroom, and Lauren couldn't suppress a shiver despite her coat.

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