Chapter 28
twenty-eight
. . .
Witt
Encrypted Chat Glitch
Dad said something tonight at dinner. Sometimes focusing on one person helps you see the whole picture. Interesting.
It seems like it would be the opposite.
The SGI e-Football League pavilion is operating exactly as designed. Latency averages 8.4 milliseconds across every competition pod—low enough that every button press registers almost instantly, with no visible delay between player input and onscreen action.
Broadcast feeds remain synchronized. Audience engagement on the streaming platform has exceeded projections by fourteen percent since player introductions, and the production crew has adjusted to two minor schedule changes without creating a ripple anywhere else in the event.
I should be monitoring every aspect of this launch. Instead, I'm watching Maci.
She stands near the center aisle talking with one of the production assistants, clipboard tucked beneath one arm while she listens far more than she speaks. After a few seconds she nods, points toward one of the broadcast cameras, and the assistant jogs away smiling.
The problem is solved before it can become one.
She doesn’t give orders, she gives the employees confidence they can fix it themselves.
Interesting. I wasn't looking for that quality when I hired her.
Perhaps I should have been.
She disappears behind the stage for a moment before emerging again with two volunteers trailing behind her.
One of them can't be older than sixteen and looks overwhelmed by the thousands of people moving through the pavilion.
Maci slows her pace until he's walking beside her instead of behind her, saying something I can't hear over the roar of the crowd.
His shoulders relax. By the time they reach the player entrance, he's smiling.
She never touches him. Doesn’t appear to raise her voice. Not once does she act like she’s in charge. Yet, he follows her. Because he wants to.
My focus shifts toward the stage.
Five Austin Dillos players sit inside illuminated competition pods across from the Seattle Evergreens, each station enclosed in curved glass glowing in team colors.
The massive, suspended scoreboard rotates statistics overhead while the sportscasters narrate every possession with enough enthusiasm to convince the audience they're watching the Super Bowl instead of digital football.
Children wearing oversized Dillos jerseys cheer every completed pass.
Parents cheer louder. This is what I imagined years ago.
Football without geography.
Competition without weather.
A league where anyone with enough skill could wear a professional jersey.
There’s old and young, men and women competing.
One woman, Mary Beth, who competes for the Dillos is in her sixties.
She told the sports reporter before the event that she had four sons and always had to play with the youngest because the others went off to college.
Sadness washes over me for a brief moment. I shake it off and watch Maci instead.
Now, she's kneeling beside one of the younger volunteers, straightening the credential hanging around her neck because it twisted backward. The girl says something, and Maci laughs—not loudly, not for attention. Just enough that the little girl's nervous expression disappears.
When she stands, she brushes a strand of silvery-pink hair behind her ear.
She does that when she's concentrating. She also taps the edge of her clipboard exactly twice before moving to the next task.
She thanks people by name, after hearing them once and she smiles when they voice their problem as if she expects people to succeed. Those details I hadn't noticed until now.
For several minutes, I simply watch her move through the pavilion.
She isn't the loudest person or most experienced in event structure and planning, yet somehow every conversation leaves people smiling a little wider than before.
Sutton was right. Leadership isn't always the person giving directions. Sometimes, it's the person everyone unconsciously walks toward.
The realization settles quietly inside me.
When did I stop evaluating her work?
At some point over the last few weeks, I'd crossed an invisible line.
I wasn't watching to see whether she'd earned the position anymore.
She already had.
Now, I’m watching because I liked seeing her succeed.
That distinction feels important. I'm just not entirely sure why.
A burst of applause erupts from the arena as the Dillos score another touchdown. The giant scoreboard flashes team colors while confetti cannons fire test bursts near the ceiling in preparation for the championship presentation.
The crowd surges to its feet.
I barely notice. Why?
Because across the pavilion, Maci throws both hands into the air after another production cue lands perfectly. She turns in a small circle, searching for someone to thank, completely unaware she's smiling wide enough for me to see it from fifty yards away.
Something unfamiliar settles beneath my ribs. It’s quiet and steady. Like discovering a variable I never thought to include in the equation and suddenly the code works as intended.
For years, I believed the success of an event could be measured by numbers.
Attendance.
Revenue.
Viewership.
Engagement.
Today, standing at the edge of a pavilion built from an idea that once existed only inside my head, I realize I've spent the last hour measuring something entirely different.
Her and the joy she brings to life has become my favorite statistic.
I don't realize how long I've been standing there until someone clears his throat beside me.
"You know the game's over there, right?"
I don't take my eyes off Maci.
"I know."
Parker steps closer, just enough that I can see his arm wrapped tightly around Annika out of my peripheral vision. They both follow my line of sight across the pavilion.
Annika smiles first. "Oh..."
"So that's what we're doing." Parker smirks.
"I'm observing."
He snorts. "Sure you are."
"I am."
"Bro, you've been 'observing' the same woman for the last fifteen minutes."
"Twenty-two," I correct.
Parker lets out a laugh. "You counted?"
"I didn't need to."
Annika elbows Parker’s side. "Leave him alone."
"I'm just making an observation."
"You're making fun of him."
"I can do both."
Before either of us says another word, Noelle and Matt wander over carrying two bottles of water.
"What are we looking at?" Noelle asks.
Parker points toward Maci. "Witt's future."
And I don’t even roll my eyes because I’m wondering if he’s right. It feels right.
Noelle follows his finger until she finds Maci directing volunteers near the stage.
A slow smile spreads across her face.
"Oh, wow,” she says, stunned
Matt glances from Maci back to me. "I've never seen you watch anything this intently."
"I watched server traffic for thirty-six consecutive hours once."
"Exactly."
Noelle reaches over and pats my arm. "You like her, don’t you?”
On instinct, I nod and I feel a grin forming on my face. A fucking grin.
My sister who’s like five-foot-three against my almost six-foot-five frame, tucks herself under my arm and squeezes. “I’m proud of you.”
"For what?" I look down at her. She looks like our mom from the pictures I’ve seen of her at Noelle’s age.
She smiles warmly. "For finally looking at a person the way you've always looked at your dreams."
The words land somewhere deeper than I expect.
Before I can decide how to respond, another familiar voice joins us.
"What's everybody staring at?" J.D. slips his hands into the pockets of his sport coat while Birdie loops her arm through his.
Parker grins. "Witt."
J.D. studies me for approximately three seconds before looking toward Maci.
Then back at me. "Huh."
"Huh?" Parker repeats.
"I honestly didn't think we'd live long enough to see this."
“I can hear you.”
J.D. is eighteen years older than me, but I would say the most like me, disciplined to a fault, determined to a fault and only speaks when it’s important, except to Greyson they’re two years apart and have always been the dynamic duo.
He simply counters, "I intended for you to."
The others laugh, not Birdie. She watches me quietly for a moment before looking across the pavilion.
Maci is kneeling beside one of the younger volunteers again, adjusting the headset on his oversized headphones before sending him toward the stage with a reassuring smile.
Birdie's eyes soften. "You know what I love most?"
No one answers.
"He isn't looking at her because she's beautiful."
Everyone grows quiet.
"He's looking at her because she's happy."
She smiles to herself.
"And somewhere along the way..." Birdie’s eyes connect with mine. “Her happiness became more important to him than his own."
Nobody jokes.
Nobody interrupts.
For one rare moment, even Parker stays silent.
I don't know what to say.
Fortunately, Greyson arrives carrying Witley on one hip. She has pink cotton candy stuck to one cheek and points excitedly toward the giant scoreboard.
"Dillos!"
"They are," Greyson agrees before noticing the unusual silence surrounding our family.
"What'd I miss?"
Parker points at me. "Witt's in love."
I don’t even bother to challenge it because he may be right.
Greyson doesn't even look surprised. He follows my line of sight once, and smiles. "I figured."
Sutton joins them, as my namesake offers her a sticky kiss. “Witt, your instincts were right on Maci. She’s amazing.”
“She is.”
"I've never seen you look at anyone this way," she says under her breath.
Greyson nods. "He hasn’t."
Before I can defend myself, Dad walks up carrying two cups of coffee.
"What's going on?"
Greyson takes one without asking. "You owe us dinner."
Dad frowns. "For what?"
Greyson smiles. "Not just dinner." He glances toward me before looking back at Dad. "You promised."
"I make a lot of promises and I try to keep them but remind me."
"You said you'd go on a date when Witt finally did."
Parker immediately points at me.
"He's got you."
Noelle laughs. "I remember that conversation."
"So do I," J.D. says.
Matt nods. "Witnesses."
Dad looks around at every one of us before settling on me.
Then he follows my gaze until he finds Maci.
A slow smile spreads across his face.
"I suppose I did say that."
Greyson grins.
"So..." Parker folds his arms. "When's the date?"
Dad shakes his head. "He’s always thought he didn’t deserve love.”
"It took the right woman," Birdie says softly.
Dad looks back at me. "No." His smile grows. "It took him finding himself."
I don't answer because across the pavilion, Maci can’t contain her excitement when the Dillos score with less than a minute left. It’s their last competitor, and Maci has already calculated the score needed to win. Them. Us. Somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking of the team as theirs.
A minute later, there’s confetti raining down on the Dillo team in green and gold.
Maci wanted the experience to be more like a live football game and she was right again.
I guess sitting at her siblings’ sporting events paid off for both of us.
It’s rare for gamers to enjoy live sports, but we both do.
The players including Mary Beth bounce to their feet, jumping up and hugging each other like they won a million dollars. I almost forget they did. They split the winnings amongst all ten players, but it’s still a lot of money.
We used the same announcer as the Armadillos and his voice grabs the attention of all the fans.
“SGI would like to thank the Seattle Evergreens for an exciting game that came down to the wire. I actually got tired of saying first down.” Everyone laughs.
“Our innovative leader, Witt O’Ryan has given the country another way to join or follow a sports team.
But I think, tonight, we also need to give a round of applause to Maci Hart for putting on an outstanding launch of the e-football league. ”
For some reason tonight I can’t stop smiling. My face actually hurts a little. I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in my life combined.
Matt responds with a wolf whistle behind me.
Parker says, “Hell yeah. Way to go Maci.”
The rest of my family is clapping and Noelle is jumping.
But I just start walking. Maci receives congratulatory hugs by other executives and Dara. Then by the competitors, but I head straight for her anyway.
I don’t hear anyone’s words.
I can’t think. I don’t even know what I’m doing.
When everyone notices me they slap my back, pat my arm. I hate being touched by almost everyone. But still, I don’t think about it.
I reach for Maci.
She sees me.
“Witt.”
I cup her face and look into her eyes. “I thought I understood connection because I could design the platforms that created it.” I pause. “Then I met you and realized I only understood the infrastructure.”
Tears well up in her eyes and they’re the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.
“You’re my connection.”
I slip my hands into her silver hair, with one finger following the pink strands that frame her face and our lips meet.
It’s soft and tender. Her hands travel to my biceps and she squeezes, letting me know she feels the same way.
When we part, my forehead presses against hers and she whispers my name.
But it’s Parker and Noelle’s voices I hear above all.
“Hell yeah!”
“She’s perfect.”
I feel my eyes softening and my cheeks rising because she is perfect. Perfect for me.
The entire place goes crazy like we beat the highest level on the game. I slip my hand into Maci’s, and I get blinded by photography flashes.
I realize that my entire family, two teams, employees and by tonight, millions of online followers saw me kiss my employee. In public.
I can’t respawn and get a do-over.
And I don’t want to.
The damage is done so I place a gentle peck on her lips.
And the way she smiles at me makes me feel like we’re alone inside Franchise mode, except we’re not executing trades. We’re building more than a team.
We’re building—us.