My father folds his hands on the table. “Okay, team, so these are our primary targets.”
The coach looks at the GM, who nods. “Yes,” Coach says.
“And we feel good about our backups?” My dad looks at my sister.
Alie turns the screen toward him. “Tiered by position and adjusted for medical concerns.”
I lean forward and glance over the final list.
“Those top three are clean from a medical standpoint,” I say. “Fourth has some risk but manageable. Fifth is higher upside and higher maintenance.
Coach points to the wide receiver. “If he’s there in the second?”
“I’d want another imaging review before we commit,” I say. “But I wouldn’t rule him out.”
My mother, who rarely speaks during draft meetings unless she has something significant to contribute, looks at me. “You’re comfortable with the board?”
“Yes.”
She nods. “Then it looks like we’re ready for draft day.”
She stands, and just like that, the meeting is adjourned.
Everyone stands, gathers their folders and notes. Coaches drift out first, already speculating about trade scenarios. My father stays behind long enough to squeeze my shoulder.
“How’s my girl?” he asks.
He’s not asking casually. He’s asking about Saint, the kids … all of it.
“We’re doing okay,” I say.
He studies me for a second. “That’s good, but I asked about you.”
I reach out and set my hand on his shoulder. “I’m good, Dad.”
He nods. “Let’s do dinner soon.”
“Okay.”
“Family dinner. All of us.”
I smile. “I’ll talk to Saint.”
He leans down and kisses my head.
My mother stops next and hugs me—a real mom hug.
Then it’s just me and Alie left packing up.
“Come to my office,” she says.
I give her a look. “That sounds ominous.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It does when you say it like that.Come to my office,” I tease.
She laughs. “I have snacks.”
