“You would come to my game, right?”
King doesn’t respond, but I imagine he would. We lay there for a few minutes while a pile of dog hair falls to the comforter with each stroke of my hand. When I reach for my phone to add deshedding shampoo to tomorrow’s grocery list, I double-take when a new text comes in.
Renée: Maybe it would be nice to get out and do something we don’t normally do. What time isthe game?
I’m scrambling to sit up and double-check the team’s schedule.
Jonah: Noon at Fairmount Park. I’ll be there by 10:30 for warm-up.
Renée: We have a couple things to do tomorrow, but if we have time, we’ll try to stop by.
Jonah: I’ll let my sister Angie know to look out for you. She’ll be the one on the sidelines screaming at the ref.
Renée: I can’t promise I’ll make it. But I’ll try.
Jonah: I hope you do.
Chapter 17
Shut the Fuck Up, Children Are Here
Jonah
No matter how long I play, nothing beats waking up on a Saturday with game day excitement. At least that’s what I thought until this morning. Now that Renée and her daughters might be there, I’m struggling to stay calm.
When I leave my place for the city, Renée is out in the gated garden I gave her. As bad as I want to see her, I remind myself I cannot be late to warm-up. Dane would have my head, and I’m trying to show up for the team.
I double honk and wave before yelling, “See you there!” I hope like hell she comes. I mean heck—I hope likeheckshe comes. I have to watch my mouth on the pitch today if the girls are going to be there. It’s easy to get caught up in the moment and cuss like a sailor. We’re all juiced-up on pre-workout and slamming into each other—the testosterone level is through the roof.
When I get to our field at Fairmount Park, that’s the first thing I tell my team.
Everyone’s bootin’ up, taping ankles and ears to prepare for the game against New York when I join the mix.
“Everyone listen up,” I announce, but am cut off by our tighthead prop.
“Holy shit, I don’t think you’ve ever been early to a warm-up in your life, JoJo.”
Our scrummy pipes up. “Fuck! Which one of you fuckers do I owe fifty bucks to?”
“That’d be me,” Raf says with a smirk. Well, now that we’re amongst rugby players, he goes by Jimmy—a play on his last name Jimenez.
I forget what I was trying to say for a moment. “You bet I would show up on time?” I ask him.
“Of course,” my brother-in-law says, as if it’s totally normal for anyone in my family to believe in me. “You said you were trying to step up, and I’m going to hold you to that.”
A couple of the guys give us teasing remarks and shove at Raf’s shoulder as he laces up. I can’t believe he would stick up for me like that. I mean, there’s no doubt in my mind Raf has my best interest at heart—he’s always been my older, cooler friend who always had my back, yet he’s never missed an opportunity to make me look like an idiot. Based on my track record, it would have been safer to bet against me showing up on time.
I’m so used to the disappointing sighs and dismissive eye rolls that having someone rooting for my personal success feels new—and pretty awesome. It actually makes me think I have a fighting chance at leveling up to Premiership...
And impressing Renée.
Oh, shoot, Renée!
“Wait, that reminds me!” I shout over everyone again. “I need you all to be on your best behavior today.”
“Fat chance, fucker,” TumTum laughs. “This is a game for hooligans. New York’s second row punched me last season and I’ve been planning my revenge.”
I shrug. “That’s fine. Just make it look like an accident.”
