Page 139 of The Play

But he knew it was the right decision, no matter how much it stung. Deacon had played in the NFL for twelve years now—longer than most players had—and knew what it took to do this job, and that no matter how much he wished otherwise, he didn’t have it any longer.

With only two games left, though, he was increasingly aware of how many lasts he was about to have—and all he truly wanted was to enjoy the time he had left, with this team. With these guys.

He put his arm around Riley’s shoulders. “What I want is to put this losing streak shit behind us. And make the playoffs in my last year. We gonna make that happen?”

“You bet your ass we will,” Riley said, and if Carter’s determination had been obvious, Riley’s was blazing like a fire in his light blue eyes.

“Yeah, we’re gonna send you out the right way,” Beck promised.

And Deacon believed, looking at both of them, that it might really happen.

That they could make it happen.

“She’s on the phone, isn’t she?” Grant asked Darcy, lifting his head from his laptop as she walked in, a grim expression on her face.

There were only a handful of people who could make Darcy look like that.

Cheryl was currently topping the list.

He’d feel sorry for her, but then it was difficult to find sympathy for someone who’d attempted to destroy him.

She might think she’d actually accomplished her goal, but the keyword was: attempted.

“Better than that,” Darcy said. “She’s here.”

Grant was not often surprised. And he was sure Cheryl had hoped showing up at the Condors facility the morning the interview came out would not only be an unexpected move, but also aggressive and inconvenient for Grant.

But Cheryl didn’t know a lot of things—though, Grant thought she was about to be a hell of a lot better informed.

“Huh,” Grant said, grinning as he leaned back in his chair and Darcy smiled right back.

“You want me to bring her in? Here? Or the conference room?”

“Show her into the conference room. Even she must realize we’re not always immediately at her beck and call, so let her cool her heels for half an hour or so. I’ll gather the rest of what I need, make the final call to the commissioner, and I’ll let you know before I go in.”

“I’m gonna want to be there to see her face,” Darcy said.

“Believe me, I know, and you’ll be there because you deserve it,” Grant said. Darcy had done a lot of the hard work setting all this up—much of the logistics and coordination was thanks to her. Even though he’d set her on this path to begin with, she’d dug in with relish, enjoying the opportunity to get back at someone who’d seemingly taken every chance they could to stab all of them—Grant, Darcy, Deacon, and really the whole goddamn team—in the back.

And not because she seemed to hold a particular grudge against Grant. No. Once he’d started touching base with the other team owners, he’d figured out it was more about the power than anything personal. She liked having something hanging over his head, over all their heads—and when he’d pushed back and tried to eliminate the sword she’d kept insisting existed, she’d snapped and leaked that email to the press.

He was sure it was supposed to be a reminder of who was really in charge.

But instead of Grant being cowed, he’d fought back, and now Cheryl was going to discover just how much she really did not want to piss him off.

Darcy shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks. She just . . .ugh, if you even know how smug she looked when she showed up today.”

“I can only imagine,” Grant said. Already thinking about how satisfying it was going to feel to wipe that look off her face.

“Then she said something about how that email must’ve been true, after all, even after all your denials, if you’re out giving interviews about your relationship.” Darcy huffed out a breath. “I want to say she was implying you lied to her, but it was more than an implication. It was an accusation. I really wanted to punch her in the face, to be honest.”

“You’re going to get to do one better,” Grant promised.

“Right. Right.”

“Just remember that,” Grant said.

“I will.” Darcy paused, beginning to turn, but then she cocked her head. “And Grant?”

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