Chapter 40 Premier LeagueBust
Premier League or Bust
Renée
The stadium for Jonah’s final season game isn’t huge, but compared to the scruffy community park they’re used to playing at, this place looks like the Super Bowl.
The artificial turf glows under the early November sun, and the stands are nearly packed with actual fans.
There’s even a massive banner the hangs across the railing that reads:
GO PHILLY! PREMIER LEAGUE OR BUST!
We finally spot Jonah’s family waving us over. We met them last Sunday when Jonah hosted a family dinner at his place. Everyone was so nice, and I could tell right off the bat that this family was tight-knit.
That same morning, I welcomed him into my home for the first time, and made sure he understood just how important he is to me. The sun seemed to shine a little brighter that day.
But even if we hadn’t met his family before today, I think we would have spotted them.
Every single one of them is wearing matching T-shirts with the faces of Jonah, Dane, and Rafael plastered to the cotton.
Angie is standing on the bench, already screaming her husband’s name, even though warm-ups aren’t over yet.
As we walk up, Joaquín turns and grins. “There’s the real MVP,” he says. “Saved you ladies some seats.”
I scoot in and take a seat beside Neal, rigid in his team hat. Part of me thinks he’s going to shake my hand, but he surprises me and comes in for a hug. “Good to see you again, Renée. Hi girls.”
“Hi, Grandpa Neal,” Lo chirps, throwing all of us for a loop.
I catch the faintest hint of blush across his cheeks, and he chuckles. “Hey kiddo.”
“Everyone cheer,” Ivy (his sister, not his girlfriend like I wrongly accused him of having) says. She holds her phone. “I’m documenting everything, so look alive!”
We cheer and wave and say encouraging words into the camera before she moves on to film something else.
“There’s a lot more people here than I thought there’d be,” I say.
“That might be my doing,” Robyn says. I turn around to find her sitting between her husbands. She winces, but I know she’s not at all sorry. “I may have sent out the bat signal across social media.”
Jonah showed me her profiles with millions of followers last week, and my jaw dropped. She’s a professional rugby player with brand deals and modeling contracts. Her husband Dell has a similarly sized following for gym thirst traps. Jonah’s family is something else.
“What do you have there?” Joaquín asks Delta.
“We made signs!” she announces, handing him a glitter-coated posterboard. One has Jonah’s name, and the other reads TRY HARDER with absolutely no irony.
Joaquín beams. “The guys are gonna love this.”
On the field, Jonah jogs across the turf with the rest of his team. Half of his hair is pulled into a topknot, and he looks damn good in that uniform—tight little shorts, thick hamstrings out for my viewing pleasure. I wanna bite into them.
When he spots us, his face lights up. He lifts a hand, and Delta jumps up to wave both signs at once. Lo blows a kiss like she’s greeting the Pope.
And it’s that signature Jonah grin of his that has my heart fluttering.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice booms through the stadium.
“Welcome to the final match of the Division One East Coast Rugby Playoffs between Philadelphia and Richmond. Today’s winning team will be crowned this year’s champions.
But win or lose, Philadelphia only needs to score seven more points to qualify for Premier League. ”
The crowd erupts, and Delta screams, “Let’s get eight!”
Isaiah laughs behind us. “I like her.”
Jonah takes his starting position, bouncing on his toes. He looks focused and ready. His team claps him on the back, trusting him, depending on him. I squeeze the railing, equal parts proud and nervous.
“Go Philly!” Angie yells right before the whistle blows. The ball arcs through the air, and the game erupts immediately into a flurry of body slams and scrums.
“Go rugby!” Lo screams. Wrong sport phrasing, but she gets points for enthusiasm.
Jonah takes the first tackle beautifully. Really beautifully. Like, I might need to fan myself a little despite the cool fall air.
Joaquín hollers, “Yes, JoJo!”
Angie echoes, “Hit him harder next time!”
After several rucks, Philly wins possession and moves the ball up field. Jonah gets it and passes cleanly to a teammate on a breakaway. I lose my mind and scream along with the roaring crowd as Philly gets dangerously close to scoring.
“Mom, he throws the ball really fast,” Lo says.
“Yes, he does.”
My heart clenches when it hits me just how in control he is—of his game, and of his life.
He’s worked so hard to get to where he is.
Rays of sunshine cast over him, and he wipes sweat from his brow as he strategizes.
He navigates the pressures, the expectations, the teasing with grace.
This was built brick by brick, sacrifice by sacrifice.
He’s poured his heart and soul into this, and I can’t help but admire the dedication, the sheer force of will that brought him here.
Whether he walks away victorious, clutching the trophy, or shoulders the weight of defeat, I’ll be there. Win or lose, I’ll make sure he knows that. I’ll make sure he knows I see the effort, the grit, the man he is beyond the game.
Richmond closes in and things get messy. Dane and Rafael scrum down with the other forwards, but it collapses in a snarling pile of humans.
“Come on, Philly,” Isaiah grumbles, his hands flying out in rage. “What was that?”
The scrum resets, and the ball finds its way through several pairs of feet until it’s picked and thrown out to Jonah. He tears down the field, dodges a tackle, and the entire Johanssen fan section stands. Jonah looks like he might go for the try himself, but it’s going to be a tight fit.
But he doesn’t.
He passes.
Perfectly. Selflessly. The teammate he sends it to barrels through a gap in Richmond’s line, and over the try line!
The crowd blows up and the whistle screams. I’m scooping the girls up in a hug and shaking them. Joaquín joins our circle and cheers with us.
“That’s my boy,” Neal says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.
“How many points was that?” Delta asks Robyn.
“Five. If they make this conversion kick, they’ll have the other two points they need.” She points to Dane who’s lining up for the kick. “Looklooklook!”
Joaquín hauls Lo into his chest and holds tight. Delta squeezes my arm, and my vision zeroes-in on the ball. My heart pounds.
Dane runs forward in measured steps and kick—the ball soars through the uprights.
Everyone. Loses. Their. Shit.
The stadium explodes, and the team bounds from the try zone to where Dane’s standing in shock—like he can’t believe he really did that. Jonah and Raf are the first to pummel him, followed by whoops and hollers. One of the bigger guys lifts him in the air and carries him to his position.
Robyn and Dell are hugging. Isaiah shakes his fathers shoulders, both of them laughing and near tears.
Now that the pressure is off, the team starts playing loose, and I’ve never seen so many rugged men with grins. They steal a turnover. They score again. Jonah makes a huge defensive stop that sends half the crowd to their feet.
When the final whistle blows, the stadium erupts in a deafening roar. Philadelphia wins—by a lot more than seven.
Teammates from the sidelines rush the field as everyone hugs and slaps each other around. The teams shake hands, and Jonah laughs, red-faced, sweaty, and undoubtedly in his element—all of it turning me on and causing my chest to expand.
He turns and makes a beeline for me. The moment he reaches the railing, he hoists himself up, cups my face and kisses me—hard, euphoric, and breathless—and the whole world fades away.
When we finally pull apart, my daughters are shrieking, as is Angie, and Ivy’s saying something about viral content.
Jonah brushes his sweaty thumb along my cheek, and I’m lightheaded from adrenaline and him.
“Go get your trophy,” I murmur, nudging him back toward the field where his team is gathering for photos.
He gives me that grin—that wonderful, powerful grin. “I already have it.”