Chapter 38
thirty-eight
. . .
Maci
Failure isn't bad.
It's just data telling you what to do next and what not to repeat.
College football Saturdays are apparently a sacred holiday in the O'Ryan family. I’m not quite sure why I didn’t realize it.
By the time Witt and I pull into the stadium parking lot, the place already looks like a small city. Blue and white tents stretch across rows of asphalt, smoke curls from grills, and every other person seems to be wearing a jersey with O'Ryan stitched across the back.
I glance at Witt.
"So... is everyone here related to you?"
“No.” He scans the crowd with the same calm precision he uses everywhere else. "Approximately eighty-three percent simply enjoy football."
I nudge him in the side. “Eighty-three, huh?”
Witt just smiles.
Parker jogs toward us and throws his arm around me. “Exciting, right?”
Glancing around, everyone is happy and it’s freaking contagious. “It is. All the flags and school colors. The college students dressed up. I just don’t understand why they’re wearing your jerseys.”
Parker turns to face me. “LaGrange raised us. We were on the sidelines, in the locker rooms and Dad had his assistant watch us during the game. They love me the most because at least I went to school here.”
Witt rolls his eyes. “One semester. And you didn’t play football.”
“Still counts. See all my jerseys.”
Witt slips his fingers through mine as naturally as if we've been doing it for years. It's become my favorite thing about us. He doesn't think about it anymore, just reaches for me like it’s automatic. We belong hand in hand.
The closer we get to the family tailgate, the louder it becomes.
Greyson is flipping burgers with one hand while somehow carrying on three conversations at once.
J.D. has a football tucked beneath one arm as two little boys beg him to throw passes.
Noelle is laughing so hard she nearly drops a plate of cookies.
Matt catches it before it hits the ground.
"I thought I married someone coordinated. You were a cheerleader for God’s sake," he mutters.
She elbows him. "I heard that."
"You were supposed to."
“I can’t help it. I get excited and talk with my hands.”
Birdie stands beside Sutton arranging enough food to feed an army while Annika uncovers another crockpot. The smell alone makes my stomach growl.
Sutton beams the second she sees us. “You’re here!”
She wraps me in a hug before I have time to set down the bowl of pasta salad I'd offered to bring. "I hope you're hungry."
“Skipped breakfast because…”
Birdie winks as another crockpot lid comes off.
"Oh my gosh," I whisper.
"How many crockpots did you bring?"
Sutton looks genuinely confused by the question.
"Only four."
Greyson snorts from the grill.
Paulina pops her hip out. "Mom says only like that's a normal number."
"It is if you're feeding football players."
J.D. points his spatula toward the desserts. "And Parker."
"I burn calories faster."
"You inhale calories faster," Greyson corrects.
Parker grins without an ounce of shame. "Also true."
I lean closer to Annika. "Is it always like this?"
She smiles. "Every Saturday."
"I love it."
"I knew you would. And Witt’s outwardly enjoying it. That’s new and it’s all because of you." Her eyes are soft and little butterflies make my stomach flutter.
Witt quietly takes the bowl from my hands and sets it on the table by the rest of the spread. He stands by me, not hovering, while listening to his brothers and chiming in for a dig or a dry remark that has us all laughing.
A group of college students walks past the tailgate carrying foam fingers and oversized drinks. One of them stops walking and his eyes grow wide.
"Dude..." He points toward Greyson. "That's Greyson O'Ryan."
Another guy turns. "No way."
A third notices J.D. "Holy crap... J.D. too."
Then Parker.
"There's Parker!"
Within seconds, half the group is staring. Phones quietly appear. One girl whispers loudly enough for all of us to hear. "I told you they'd be here."
Greyson smiles politely and waves.
J.D. nods.
Parker flashes a peace sign.
The group starts to move again before one freshman-looking guy suddenly freezes.
His mouth literally falls open.
"No..." He points again. "No freaking way."
Everyone follows his finger—straight to Witt.
"That's Witt O'Ryan!" The excitement in his voice somehow tops the others.
"The Synatrix guy!"
The other guy says with a hearty scoop of surprise, "No way. My roommate has every game he's ever made."
"I watched his interview last month. My brother says he's the smartest guy in gaming."
Someone else laughs.
"Forget football."
"Witt's the coolest one."
Heat rushes into my chest.
I look at Witt and his eyes widen, like he isn't entirely sure they're talking about him.
Greyson notices too as a slow grin spreads across his face. He throws an arm around Witt's shoulders. "About time."
"I've been telling you, Witt." Parker laughs.
J.D. bumps his fist against Witt's shoulder. "I thought at football games, we’d still be the most famous, but Witt, you’ve surpassed us all.”
“Nope, the reason Synatrix has suddenly become hip is because of Maci,” he says looking down at me.
A collective aww comes from his family.
Noelle folds her arms. "Told you love looks good on him."
Witt tilts his head. "I fail to see the correlation."
"There’s our Witt.” A chuckle dances in Matt’s voice.
Paulina says, “I think I need to teach you teenage lingo. We don’t say ‘hip.’”
The team comes down the pavement. Cleats clicking in cadence for the Tiger Walk. Mr. O’Ryan or Coach is at the end of the parade, carrying a bottle of water. He steps underneath the blue and white tape.
"Maci. Glad you came. What'd I miss?"
Greyson nods toward the students still sneaking glances at Witt.
"They came for us." He pats Witt on the back. "They stayed for him."
Coach O'Ryan looks at his youngest son. The pride in his eyes steals my breath.
"I've coached championships." He smiles. "But you've changed the world in your own way. You bring people together to do something they enjoy."
For just a second, Witt doesn't have a comeback. He simply looks around the tailgate.
At his dad.
His brothers.
His sister.
Birdie laughing with Annika.
Sutton making sure everyone has enough to eat.
Then his gaze finds mine. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
The kind that belongs only to me.
And I realize something.
For the first time since I've known him, Witt O'Ryan isn't standing in anyone's shadow.
He's exactly where he belongs.
The student section comes alive as Mr’. O’Ryan’s team breaks the huddle.
Blue and white towels spin overhead while the marching band pounds out the fight song. Even from halfway up the stands, I can see Coach O'Ryan pacing the sideline with the same intensity Greyson warned me about.
“Does he always walk that fast?" I ask.
"No." Parker doesn't take his eyes off the field. "That's relaxed."
I laugh. "I don't believe you."
"You should."
The quarterback claps for the snap.
Ball.
Fake handoff.
The tight end slips behind the linebackers and hauls in a twenty-yard gain.
How do I know this? Synatrix e-football league. A game I love.
Greyson grins. "They've been setting that up all day."
Matt nods. "Yep, they finally got the safeties to bite."
The drive keeps moving.
Short pass.
Run.
Another first down.
The family watches like they're all calling the game from different booths.
"Noelle, popcorn?" Birdie asks.
Noelle never looks away from the field. "Mmhmm."
Birdie hands her the bucket without another word.
Apparently this isn't their first football Saturday together.
The offense reaches the red zone.
The quarterback changes the play.
Coach points frantically from the sideline.
"He doesn't like it," J.D. mutters.
The ball is snapped and the receiver cuts to the outside. There must be some miscommunication because the quarterback throws inside and the pass lands on the turf.
The stadium groans.
Greyson leans back. "Ouch."
Parker shakes his head.
"That was a complete failure."
Matt folds his arms. "Quarterback expected a slant.”
"The receiver read man coverage," J.D. adds.
Witt adds, "They weren't solving the same problem."
They all turn to him as their Dad's headset comes off.
Even from the stands I can tell exactly what Coach is saying.
"What in the hell was that?"
The entire O'Ryan row chuckles.
"They'll fix it," Greyson says.
Parker claps. “Come on Tigers!”
Without thinking, I smile. "Failure isn't bad."
Four heads turn toward me.
"It's just data." I shrug. "It tells you what to do next... and what not to repeat."
Silence.
Not stadium silence.
Our row.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Witt.
His jaw tightens so fast it's almost imperceptible. The color drains slightly from his face. He doesn't look at me, just stares forward.
"What was that?" His voice is quiet.
"What?"
"What you just said."
"Oh." I glance back toward the field. "Failure isn't bad. It's just data. It tells you what to do next... and what not to repeat."
His eyes lock onto mine.
Not soft.
Not confused.
Focused.
Like every processor in his brain just powered on at once.
His thumb stops rubbing circles against my hand.
His breathing changes, enough that I notice.
"You okay?"
A long beat passes before he answers. "Yes."
But his voice is distant.
Almost mechanical.
Like he's somewhere else entirely.
Coach sends the offense right back out. The next series couldn't be more different. Simple throws and hand-offs to the running back.
Six yards. Five more.
First down.
Then another run in for a touchdown.
The stadium erupts.
Coach O’Ryan pumps both fists.
Greyson laughs. "See?"
"They learned."
Parker points toward the quarterback. "He quit trying to be a hero."
"He trusted the system," Matt says.
The extra point sails through the uprights.
The defense forces one final stop late in the fourth quarter.
Victory formation.
The quarterback takes a knee.
Ballgame.
The stadium explodes as blue and white confetti cannons fire near the student section.
Everyone stands, celebrating their dad’s win and the college that helped raise Parker, Noelle and Witt.
I jump up and kiss Witt’s cheek and he slips his hand back into mine.
He's still smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His mind is somewhere else.
He’s calculating, processing, searching for something I can’t see.
"I have something I need to do," he says quietly.
He doesn't look at me when he says it.
Instead, he stares out across the now-emptying field.
A strange knot forms in my stomach.
Before I can ask what he means, Annika loops her arm through mine.
"Perfect."
My head swivels to her. “For what?"
"Come home with Parker and me,” she says. "My rehearsal dinner dress came in, and I need another opinion."
Birdie grins. "Oh, I'm coming."
I look back at Witt.
He's still staring at the field.
Thinking.
Not once does he meet my eyes. It seems like the Witt when I first got the job, not the Witt who loves me.
Something has changed.
I just don't know what it could be. I didn’t notice him getting an urgent text during the game. I check my phone.
"I'm going to Annika and Parker’s.” I tell him.
He gives one small nod. "Good."
No kiss.
No smile.
Just another thoughtful nod and that worries me more than anything else.