Page 72 of Split Decision

She picks up on the fourth ring, which tells me she saw it coming and took a moment.

"Hey," she says.

"The review closed."

A pause. "I know. Brandon texted me."

Something about that bothers me—not that Brandon told her, but the order of it. That the outcome of a decision I made without her was delivered to her by the person who'd helped me make it.

"Andi—"

“Luke.” Her voice remains calm, not icy but cautious. When Andi is angry, she’s like thunder—you sense it beforehand, and it echoes everywhere. This time, it's calmer but more piercing. The calmness of someone who’s chosen to stay still. “The review is over. That’s good. I’m happy your license remains secure."

"Are you?"

"Yes." She means it. I can tell. "I don't want your career destroyed. I've never wanted that."

"I know."

"But I also want you to understand what it cost. Not the strategy. What it actually cost."

"I do understand."

"Do you?" Not a challenge. A question. "Because when I stepped back from the youth center, you saw it happening to me, and you were angry on my behalf. You told me it was wrong. And then you did the same thing."

The words are quiet. That's what makes them hit so hard.

"I know," I say. It comes out smaller than I mean it to.

"I'm not going to keep making this point. I've made it. You heard it. Now we have to figure out what comes next." She pauses. "But Luke—the sixty days aren't over. And while they're running, I need you to actually look at who's benefiting from them. Not Brandon. Not me. Not you. Look at who positioned this and ask yourself why the solution always looks the same."

I already know what she's saying. I've been thinking the same thing for two weeks.

"I'm looking," I say.

"Good."

Another pause. I used to know what her silences meant. I'm not sure I do anymore.

"How's training?" she asks.

"Mack's not happy with me."

"Is he ever?"

"Sometimes." I lean my head back against the wall. "How's the tour?"

"St. Louis crowd earned it." The slightest lift in her voice—the one she can't help when the work went right. "Travis was right. They're skeptical at the top."

"And you won them."

"We did."

We stay on the line longer than the conversation requires. Not because it's comfortable. Because neither of us knows how to be the one who ends it.

"Andi."

"Yeah."