Page 17 of Sealing the Deal

I look at Mama, needing her thoughts, or maybe her approval. Her gaze is level. “I agree with Dylan. It’s a risk to trust someone like this. My concern is what happens if you can’t convince the fans to accept an Ashborne as the majority owner. Because if that happens, he could drag you down by association. He wants you standing by his side at games to show Denver he’s got your support. But what if it goes the other way, and instead of the fans accepting him, they turn on you, too?”

I swallow. Fear needles my stomach. What good is owning the building and my bar if the fans stop coming? Not to mention my fan page. I like the connection I have to the people of Denver. I like the respect the Red Zone earns me, and how I feel like I’m a small part of the Stormhawks.

“But—” Mama continues, giving me one of her reassuring smiles. “If anyone can convince Grayson Ashborne to save the Stormhawks, it’s you, Flic. You are strong, loyal, and stand for everything the Stormhawks are about. And I doubt an opportunity like this will come up again.”

She’s right.

“There is one other issue,” Mama continues. “Grayson is saying he wants your help for the next four weeks.”

“Not exactly a lot of time to shift public opinion,” Harper says.

“Exactly. And it might not be four weeks,” Mama adds. “This only works if we stay in the playoffs. Otherwise, the unrest from fans will only grow and the sponsors will walk as soon as the season ends. There’s no amount of meet and greets that’s going to calm the anger if we’re not still in with a shot at the Super Bowl. And without financial investment, I don’t know what the next season looks like, or if there’ll even be one.”

“Grayson pretty much said the same thing,” I admit.

The table falls silent. Winning Saturday’s game against the second seed already feels impossible. But staying in the playoffs all the way to the Super Bowl is going to take more than a few miracles, and everyone at this table knows it.

“If we play our best, we can’t be beaten,” Chase says quietly.

Jake pushes a hand through his dark hair, his expression shifting from worry to resolve. “Then we play our best. We stay in the playoffs not just to win this season, but to give the Stormhawks a fighting chance at a future.”

I take a long gulp of coffee and let my decision sink in. It’s a risk accepting Grayson’s deal. It feels like I have everything to gain, but everything to lose, too. But when I look around this table at the people I love, who I have the chance to help just as much as the Stormhawks and myself, the risk feels worth it.

“I’ll do it,” I say. “I’ll take his deal.”

I’m doing it for Denver. For the Stormhawks. The fans. For the Sullivans, and for myself, too. All those reasons. Except now I have to go back to Grayson Ashborne and agree to help him. It’s exactly what he thought I’d do when he walked out of my bar earlier.

Well, fine. I’ll do it. But it’ll be on my terms. He might get my help. But he’ll never get my loyalty.

SEVEN

GRAYSON

HELENA: Should I be worried about the viral meme of you being eaten by a T-Rex?

GRAYSON: Just another day as an Ashborne. You OK? How’s New York?

HELENA: It might blow your tiny pea brain to know this, but it’s exactly the same as when you left. All eight million New Yorkers, including myself, are surviving without you.

GRAYSON: Love you too, sis.

I set my phone face-down on the marble counter beside the glass of bourbon and exhale slowly. My crystal tumbler catches the low light of the penthouse suite, the amber liquid swirling as I take another slow sip, feeling the alcohol dull the throb of my headache.

The concierge was quick to tell me this is the best hotel in the city and reel off a list of celebrities and dignitaries who’ve stayed in these rooms. I stare around the suite. It’s a boring mix of gray and green. Muted tones and overstuffed cushions. I chose the penthouse because it’s the top floor and I don’t want people to bother me. Which is laughable, considering my entire day has been nothing but meetings and interruptions.

My laptop is open in front of me, a set of planning applications for my latest New York redevelopment project glowing on the screen. I just got off a call with my project manager. He sees the old church hall as an opportunity to create expensive apartments. I’ve done all that before, and I’ve no interest in it now. When I see that building, I see the community center it was, and one it can be again. A beautiful space to meet friends and families and neighbors.

It’s the part of the job I still care about, and I’m not there to oversee it.

Guilt twists low in my gut. I should be in New York right now. It’s not just my own business interests I’m ignoring. My father’s company—Ashborne Holdings—is due a board meeting. My father likes to plan them for when he thinks I won’t be able to attend so I can’t speak up against him and his plans. Being away for too long is only going to cause trouble. Helena says she’s fine, but I hate the idea of her in that city alone with him. I know exactly how persuasive our father can be. How easy it is to let him frame destruction as strategy.

My projects need me. Helena needs me. But so does Denver. I made a commitment to Donny and the Stormhawks.

I click through to my inbox. It looks like someone fed a colony of raccoons a gallon of energy drinks and let them reorganize my life. Although, after the day from hell, I’d take the raccoons. After leaving The Hay Barn, I headed straight to the stadium for another pointless strategy meeting with the public relations team. Then came a three-hour finance briefing where each slide felt like a eulogy for the Stormhawks’ bank account.

It seems obvious now that the Stormhawks should’ve sold years ago, but a part of me admires their staying power, their passion and their desire to hold on to all the things they’ve built in the team. Not to mention how much they were able to hide their struggling finances from the fans.

The team is so much more than bricks and mortar, and that’s one of the reasons I was drawn to them. Even if that love, passion, and loyalty have meant they’ve been on fire and held together by duct tape for too long. I just have to do everything I can to make sure “too long” doesn’t mean “too late.”