Page 34 of Sealing the Deal

Donny laughs, clapping Grayson on the back hard enough to earn him a scowl. “He needs it, too.”

I glance between them. Grayson towers over Donny, all scowls and impatience, while Donny just grins like it’s the most natural thing in the world to wind him up. Grayson mentioned in his hotel that they were college roommates, and despite how different they seem on the surface, it’s obvious they’re more than that.

My stride falters for a second as it hits me. Donny and Grayson are friends. Good friends.

The boardroom is a long room that covers the width of the offices, floor-to-ceiling windows on either side. One wall looks out over Denver’s skyline and a gray winter sky, mountains faint in the distance. The other overlooks the field itself, the green stretching out in perfect lines beneath the stadium lights.

City on one side. Team on the other. Hard not to feel a little awed by that. The Stormhawks are the heart of Denver. And this stadium is the heart of the Stormhawks. Standing here, between both views, I feel the weight of that history. I’ve loved this team my whole life but seeing it from up here feels different. Bigger.

We step inside and instantly the room falls quiet. I spot faces I know. David and Marla Jennings from Jennings Logistics. Frank Clarke from Clarke Auto Group, always smelling faintly of that new car smell. And Lorna, who owns the Sweet Rise bakery chain, her bright red lipstick as bold as her storefront signage.

Grayson hands me a coffee in a dainty white mug and I’m grateful for something to hold. There are nods and tight smiles as Donny greets everyone with a grin and a firm handshake. David and Marla are first to approach us, and I make introductions. I ask after their kids and then business. Grayson listens, silent but attentive. As they move on, it’s hard to ignore the tension rippling around us and how every pair of eyes keeps sliding to Grayson. It occurs to me then that walking into every room as the enemy must be exhausting.

Ten minutes in, Donny murmurs something in Grayson’s ear. Grayson nods once before turning to me.

“I’ve got to say a few words.”

“Good luck,” I reply.

“The fact you think I need luck is worrying.” He flashes me a smile and steps to the front of the room as Donny moves to stand beside me.

“We were roommates in college; did he tell you?” he asks under his breath.

I nod. “He mentioned it.”

“The most infuriating guy I’ve ever met,” Donny replies.

I glance sideways at him. “But you’re close?” I ask, thinking of how easy they were in each other’s company as they walked into this room.

Donny grins. “He’s my best friend. Doesn’t mean he isn’t infuriating though. He’s the smartest person in every room, but he gets tunnel vision. Forgets the bigger picture sometimes.” He shrugs lightly. “Which is why I’m glad you’re by his side for the next few weeks. If it was just me, the fans would assume I’d been bought.”

“Haven’t you?” I ask. “You sold our team to a property developer, Donny.”

The grin fades. “I know it looks bad,” he says quietly. “But come on, Flic. You’re smart enough to see there’s a bigger picture here too.” He gestures toward the window and the green turf below. “I grew up living and breathing this team. They mean everything to me and my family. We are the Stormhawks.” His voice roughens slightly. “And I’ll admit, we’ve made mistakes. Financially, some decisions haven’t paid off. But it wasn’t easy for us to sell. It broke our hearts. Completely. My grandfather’s devastated; we all are. But it was that or bankruptcy, which would have been the end of the team.”

“It might be anyway,” I reply.

“Do you think, for one moment,” he continues, holding my gaze, “that we would hand over the most important thing in the world to someone unless we were one hundred percent certain of their intentions?”

“The Ashbornes lie all the time,” I counter. But even as the words leave my mouth, doubt creeps in. I think again about how Donny and Grayson are friends. And that maybe the fans were so shocked by the sale that we didn’t stop to think about how much the Huberts love the Stormhawks. How much it would’ve cost them to sell. Maybe we should’ve trusted them like they asked.

We read their plea to mean they were in on whatever plans Grayson had to tear our team apart. But Donny and Grayson are friends. Which means the Huberts didn’t just sell the Stormhawks to a New York billionaire; they also sold them to someone they know. Someone they trust.

I’ve been so busy being angry with the Huberts that I never stopped to consider what it must have cost them to sell and how careful they would’ve been about choosing the buyer.

And that changes things.

“Ashborne Holdings, yes. Not Grayson,” Donny replies.

I stay quiet, surprised by the rawness in Donny’s voice.

“All I’m saying—all I’m asking—is give him a chance. Grayson doesn’t have many people on his side right now. In fact, it’s just me.” He pauses. “And, I’m hoping, you.”

There’s no time to consider a reply before Grayson clears his throat from the front of the room. “Thank you all for coming.” His voice carries with easy confidence across the room. But I’m close enough to see the way his fingers flex once at his side before he stills them.

For a moment, I consider pulling out my phone and recording his speech. I wonder if he’ll say something that my followers might find comforting to hear. But I dismiss the idea. The fans don’t need a carefully worded speech right now. They need action and proof.

“There’s been a lot of speculation surrounding why I bought the Stormhawks,” Grayson continues. “A lot of worry. And I understand why. But I can assure you that I didn’t buy this team to dismantle it. I bought it because I wanted to be part of something that matters. I saw what this team means to Denver and the Huberts. I saw the passion. And I wanted to help protect it.”