Page 61 of Split Decision

And keep my eyes open.

And remember what Andi said, “That's not a stranger. That's someone who's been paying careful attention.”

I add another half mile to my run.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LUKE

The magazine cover withhimas the sexiest man alive was bad enough, but the spread of pictures ofthemas a couple inside is enough to make my jaw tighten. The public narrative around Andi and Travis has taken on a life of its own—every outlet is running with it, every entertainment channel is speculating, and I am in Las Vegas watching it happen through a hotel TV while I'm supposed to be focused on nothing but the fight.

That's the problem.

I know the photos are manufactured. I know Travis is not a threat in the way the tabloids want to sell it. I know Andi calls me every morning without fail. I know I canFaceTime her at any time of the day or night, and she’ll answer unless she’s on stage, and I know her concert schedule inside and out. I know all the things I'm supposed to know to stay rational, and my rational mind is fully operational.

It's the three a.m. hours that are the problem. When the gym is quiet, I've been running on too little sleep, and I see another picture on the hotel TV of Andi and Travis laughing at some industry event, everything I know intellectually has to fight its way back up through everything I feel.

The Commission review remains in its procedural holding pattern, which feels intentionally prolonged to keep me distracted. The youth center inquiry is grinding forward. Marin sends updates through Brandon, each one measured and reasonable. Every time I get off the phone with Brandon, I feel a faint, unidentifiable unease I can't pinpoint well enough to act on. Something about the cadence of her recommendations. Something about what she doesn't say.

I'm probably overthinking it. I'm probably just stressed.

I go to the gym and work it out, the only way I know how to relieve the tension.

"Luke," Syndi calls to me from the gym door. We go through this every time, even though I've explained that Ican't just leave my workout to be at her beck and call. So I ignore her again today, and she's forced to come to me.

"Lucas," she says more forcefully. It almost makes me laugh during the upward motion of my bench press.

"What, Syndi?" I grunt purposely.

She cringes visibly and closes her eyes in exasperation. "I need a little of your time today to review your upcoming schedule. There's a lot of interest in your career. We need to ride the popularity wave while it's peaking."

"I've told you what time I'm available. You should have it in your calendar on the phone you're constantly looking at," I reply.

"What are you doing back in here? I've told you to quit interrupting my fighters while they're training! Time for you to go," Joe commands.

His tone leaves no room for discussion. Syndi inhales slowly and deeply before she turns on her heel and marches to the door. "Meet me at two o'clock, Luke," she calls over her shoulder.

Looking up at Joe, I smirk. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"I could tell," Joe laughs and walks back to where Shane is.

"Man, that girl is relentless. I think she gets paid by thepicture or something. She always has me posing like a model instead of a fighter," Shane complains.

"She's just doing her job, man. Even if she's way too anal about it," I reply.

"Easy for you to say. She likes you. She gives me shit every single day," Shane laughs.

"You're just not as good as I am," I joke.

A dirty towel is flung in my face during my bench-press set, and I can't move my hands to grab it. The gym erupts in laughter when I threaten Shane from underneath it. "Shane, I'm kicking your ass as soon as I get up from here."

The good-natured ribbing keeps us all going when the workouts get mind-numbingly intense. I'm actually glad we have a public relations person assigned to us. There’s a business side to this that I never really considered. To stay in the game, I have to be good, but I also need the public on my side.

I've been known to be a jealous, impulsive hothead in the past. Syndi has helped with that more than once—when tabloid coverage of Travis and Andi spikes, she talks me through the mechanics of what she calls "the publicity marriage." They're selling a story. The story sells tickets. My standing here, jaw tight, is exactly what the story needs to sustain itself.

She's not wrong.

I still get my jaw tight about it. But I'm getting better at keeping it in the gym, where it belongs.