Page 79 of Sealing the Deal

The crowd erupts again and it feels louder this time. More certain.

Beside me, Grayson is still. I glance at him and see the emotion held tight behind a mask of control. His jaw flexes. His eyes shine under the bright stage lights. And I know—without him saying a word—that he feels everything I feel. The pride and the weight of what this means.

THIRTY-FIVE

GRAYSON

The ballroom erupts at Donny’s final words. For a moment, my vision blurs with how much this means to this team and this city. And to me. The team step forward as one, and Donny hands them the trophy, Jake reaching to take it. They jump and cheer and whoop like the moment on the turf in New Orleans two weeks ago.

Then they turn away from the crowd and Jake catches my eye. I start to shake my head, seeing his plan, but he only nods before placing the trophy in my hands. It’s heavier than I expect, but not as heavy as the moment of silence from the fans. Just a fraction of a second where fear grips my chest and I brace myself for anger. But the second passes and the crowd keep cheering. A chant starts somewhere near the back—“Stormhawks! Stormhawks!”—and it spreads, rolling forward like a wave.

“We won,” is all I manage to choke out, lifting the trophy above my head. I feel only acceptance. And belonging. It’s everything I wanted.

And then I look at Flic. She’s standing just off to the side of the stage, eyes bright, chin tipped up in that stubborn way she has when she’s trying not to get emotional.

Everything I wanted. And more.

Carefully, I lower the trophy and place it back on the table as the team are immediately swarmed. The kids rush forward first, then parents, then grown men pretending they don’t want a photo, but inching closer anyway. A man with thick white hair in an old Stormhawks jacket approaches me first. He hesitates only a second before holding out his hand.

“Good job,” he says simply.

Not Thank you. Not We forgive you.

Good job.

I shake his hand.

The next hour is a whirlwind. Shaking hands. Faces. Names I try to memorize and know I’ll fail. People tell me about watching the game with their fathers. About crying when the clock ran down. About believing again.

I know with certainty that this is a moment I’ll never forget. I’ve spent most of my life trying to atone for a last name I didn’t choose. Trying to fix what my father breaks. Trying to outwork the guilt that sits so heavy in my gut. Every deal, every project, every decision has been an attempt to prove I’m not him. When I bought the Stormhawks, it was to help Donny and protect something good before it could be destroyed by my father or anyone else. But I meant what I said to Donny at the party. This team—and this city—saved me.

Eventually, the crowd thins, and I see Flic watching me from a quiet corner near one of the tall windows facing out to the busy street. For a moment, I just look at her. The woman who refused to bend. Who challenged me and forced me to listen instead of strategize.

“Thank you,” I say. The words aren’t enough. Emotion chokes my voice again. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

She smiles. “I think I do.”

“I knew the fans had softened, but⁠—”

“You’re one of us, Grayson. I see it. And they see it, too.”

I pull her close, one hand settling at her waist as my thumb brushes over her cheek. She leans into the touch like she belongs there.

“Can I ask you something?” Flic says, her voice hesitant enough to drag my full attention to her.

“Sure.”

“What is this? With us, I mean.” She gestures lightly around the room. “Our deal is over. I’ve got my bar. You’ve won over the fans. The season’s done. And I know you’ve got the team, but you’ve also got a life in New York. I just… I need to know where I stand in that.”

I stare into the blue of Flic’s eyes. She’s asking for reassurance, and I’m more than happy to give it.

“Every time I fly to New York,” I say quietly, “I’m counting the seconds until I’m back here. Back with you.”

Her breath catches.

“I don’t pretend it’s going to be easy,” I continue. “I’ve got commitments there, but if you’ll let me, I want to be part of your life. Here, like this.”

“And I’d like to be part of yours,” she replies.