The pitch was soaked in autumn light, golden and cool. The final whistle blew and the crowd exploded. Tommen had won.

Tadhg Lynch stood still for half a second, hurley in one hand, helmet dangling in the other. Mud clung to his calves, his chest heaving under the navy jersey, but his eyes weren’t on the scoreboard or his teammates dogpiling at midfield.

They were on the stands.

More specifically—on her.

Jiji stood in the front row, between his new adoptive parents, Edel and John Kavanagh, their son Johnny slouched with pride beside her. Joey, Shannon, Ollie, and Sean clapped and whooped with the rest, but Jiji—Jiji didn’t cheer. She just stood there, her eyes glassy and locked on his.

And that was all it took.

Tadhg dropped his helmet and jogged—then sprinted. The team barely noticed. He wasn’t heading for the crowd of lads chest-bumping and shouting. He wasn’t even glancing at his coaches or the sea of Tommen supporters screaming his name.

He only saw her.

Jiji let out a breath just as he reached the barrier. Without a word, Tadhg grabbed her with one arm, lifted her off her feet and spun her once, her boots kicking the railing behind her. She laughed through a gasp, both hands clutching his muddy jersey.

And then he kissed her.

Firm and certain and full of everything he hadn’t said in weeks.

Jiji kissed him back like she’d been waiting her whole life.

The stands quieted for just a second, Edel’s hand frozen over her heart, Johnny blinking like he couldn’t believe it, Joey elbowing Shannon with a grin.

When Tadhg finally set her back down, he pressed his forehead to hers, a little breathless. “Had to.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I saw you and—I just had to.”

Her hands didn’t let go of his jersey. “You always do.”

Behind them, the crowd roared again. But the noise felt far away.

Tadhg didn’t turn around.

He’d already found what he was playing for.