Page 74 of Sealing the Deal

“Damn right I would,” I say, laughing, but not mad.

I realize, at this moment, that I’m in this with Grayson. Not because it’s easy. It won’t be. But because somewhere in the weeks we’ve spent together, he’s started being the person I look for in every room. That realization both thrills and terrifies me. Because even now, even with confetti still clinging to the air and the city celebrating around us, there’s a quiet voice in the back of my mind.

The season is over.

The deal is over.

What happens next?

Every time Grayson steps away to answer a call, I’m reminded of how fragile we are. How easily it could slip back into distance and duty and New York. But fear doesn’t erase the truth that I’ve fallen hard for this man, and there’s no pretending otherwise. No version of a future where I don’t give this everything I’ve got.

THIRTY-THREE

GRAYSON

I’m leaning back against the bar with a glass of champagne in my hand, watching the party. The rooftop bar glows against the New Orleans skyline. String lights crisscross above our heads, tangled through rough wooden beams that make the space feel intimate despite the city sprawling endlessly beyond it. Pop music thrums from speakers, and everywhere I look there are flushed faces and unguarded smiles.

The team are everywhere. Players dance with their partners. Coaches nurse drinks and laugh with joy and relief. Family members and friends make good on the free bar I’ve paid for. There’s no hierarchy here tonight—no owners, no staff, no titles—just people who survived a season that nearly broke them and came out the other side with a trophy.

I’m a little tipsy. Not sloppy. Just… loose. Unwound in a way I rarely allow myself to be. I’ve lost count of the hugs and handshakes. I swear I’ve had more tonight than all the nights of my life put together. The Stormhawks needed this win. Hell, I needed it.

Donny bumps his shoulder into mine, grinning like an idiot, his tie long gone and his hair falling into his eyes. He shoves his phone in front of my eyes, and I groan at the sight of another meme of my face with cartoon devil horns, a red flaming fork in my hand.

“Just watch,” Donny says, tapping the screen.

The fork touches the Stormhawks logo, which bursts into cartoon flames. But instead of crumbling into nothing, the flames disappear to reveal the Super Bowl trophy.

“They still think I’m the devil?”

“A devil who delivers, though,” Donny replies. “This is good, man.”

I huff an easy laugh. “The sponsors will be happy. For a while, at least.”

Donny nods, sobering just enough for the truth beneath it to land. We both know there are still contracts to renegotiate, trust to rebuild, long-term plans to put into place. But with Flic’s help, I’ve convinced the Huberts and the management team that we need to start fresh. Repeating old mistakes won’t help us out of this mess. And for the first time, it feels possible.

“Got to be honest,” Donny says, swiping to another image. “I laughed pretty hard at that meme of the T-Rex eating you.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t the one behind it.” I chuckle.

He snorts, then his hand lands on my shoulder, grip firm. “Seriously though, man. Thank you. You did this.”

“I had nothing to do with what the team did out there,” I say automatically.

He smirks. “I saw your catching skills.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “The whole of Denver saw my catching skills.”

“But there’s no way this team plays like that if Ashborne Holdings was selling the turf out from under them,” Donny continues. “You saved us.”

I shake my head slowly. “I think you saved me, man.” And maybe it’s the champagne talking. Or the buzz of the win. But it’s how I feel. With this team, with these fans, with a passion that pulled me in, something has shifted.

Donny clears his throat, suddenly sheepish. “So… best friend to best friend. Your sister. How would you feel about me asking her out?”

I think for a moment before smiling. “I’d feel pretty damn good about it. She deserves someone who worships her, Donny. Someone who treats her like a queen.” I lift my glass. “If she agrees to go out with your sorry ass, I’m not going to be the one standing in the way.”

Donny’s grin is wide and boyish as he sidles away, already tapping furiously on his phone, like I’ve just handed him the best gift imaginable.

I take another sip of champagne and let my gaze drift across the room again, and this time, I land on one person. Flic. She catches my eye and then she’s striding toward me, stepping straight into my arms. Where she belongs.