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"No."

"You were the miracle she gave them."

A tear slips free before I can stop it.

She kisses my forehead.

"And I think, if she could see you now... she'd tell you exactly what I'm about to."

I whisper, "What?"

Her eyes glimmer with tears as much as mine.

"She'd tell you that she knew you were special from the moment you started growing inside her. She’d tell you that you do have a mom.

“You grew beneath her heart. You told her that you didn’t like certain foods when you would hiccup. When you kicked she knew it was playtime and press on her belly to play with you. You have a mom, just not as long as the rest of your family.”

Maci looks me in the eyes. ”Witt, she’d tell you that even though you may not realize it, you’re the glue to the family, not football. The one who quietly hears problems and helps your family solve them. You’re a billionaire who babysits his nieces and nephews and the brother that hacks into systems so you can help your family. Your skills made it possible for your dad to use biometrics for his players. You’re the man that listens and doesn’t judge.”

She places gentle kisses on each cheek then says, “She’d tell you that you’ve always had a mom. That maybe the reason she had four kids before you is so you would know her. You would know what she would tell you in any situation. And I know for sure she would tell you how proud she is of the man you’ve become. The man she and your dad made together out of love.”

I close my eyes.

For the first time in years, I wonder if maybe...

Just maybe...

Mom would agree.

thirty-eight

. . .

Maci

Letter 247 Rune

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.”