Page 56 of Split Decision

“And make me question it,” he adds.

There’s no edge to it. Just honesty.

I close my eyes for a second. “Yeah. That’s part of it.”

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s full of everything we’re both trying not to say out loud—how easy it would be for this to turn into something else if we let it.

“Luke,” I say, more carefully now, “this isn’t random. The Commission review, the audit, the donor pressure, and now this… It’s all moving in the same direction. Each piece on its own is deniable, but together it’s not. Someone is putting this together.”

“I see it,” he says.

I can hear the shift in him, the part of his mind that steps into a fight instead of reacting to it.

“We can’t let it work,” I continue. “Not on us. That’s the whole point of this piece of it. If we start second-guessing each other, they don’t have to do anything else.”

“I know,” he says, and this time it lands differently. Not automatic. Considered.

“Travis is my friend,” I add. “He’s been looking out for me while I’m out here. That’s all this is.”

“I believe you,” he says, and then, after a second, “I just didn’t like seeing it.”

The admission settles between us, honest in a way that doesn’t make things worse, but doesn’t let them stay easy either.

“I wouldn’t have liked it either,” I say quietly.

That seems to steady something.

“I’m more concerned about who’s behind this than I am about Travis,” he says.

“Good,” I reply. “That’s where this actually is.”

We stay on the line after that, neither of us rushing to end it. The silence isn’t comfortable exactly, but it isn’t fractured either. It feels like something that was held under pressure and is still settling back into place.

“The photos are staged,” I say eventually. “Whoever took them knew where I’d be.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” he says. “About who would have access to that kind of information, and how they’d be able to line all of this up.”

I don’t say the name.

He doesn’t either.

But it’s there, fully formed, sitting between us.

“Be careful,” I tell him.

“You too.”

There’s a pause, softer this time.

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. And I’m not going anywhere. Those are the only things in this that aren’t moving.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and for a second, I think I’ve said too much, pushed too hard into something he’s still working through.

Then he exhales.