Page 95 of Split Decision

We stay like that for a long time. The house feels like it’s holding us. The sprinklers outside turn off. I can finallylet go of the tension I’ve been carrying for six months—trying to act fine, keeping my worries out of my training. Now, it all starts to fade away in the quiet and the dark.

"Luke," she says.

"Yeah."

"I know we have things to talk about."

"We do."

"Not tonight."

"No," I agree. "Not tonight."

She turns her face into my shoulder and lets out a long breath, like she’s finally able to set something heavy down, even if just for a moment.

"I'm glad you're home," she says.

"I know." I press my mouth briefly to the top of her head. "I'm glad to be here."

ANDI

The first week is quiet in a way I didn't expect.

It’s not that nothing is happening—the audit is still going, the board is slowly letting me get involved again, andMarin’s advice keeps coming through Brandon like clockwork. But Luke is here now, in the house, and just having him around changes everything in ways I can’t really explain.

He runs in the mornings out of habit. He comes back and makes breakfast for both of us, which he does with the same methodical focus he brings to training—ingredients lined up, timing exact, nothing wasted. He eats, sitting across from me at the kitchen table, and asks about the youth center with specific questions rather than general ones, which tells me he’s been paying attention to everything I’ve said over six months of phone calls and texts.

“Have you heard anything about Marcus?”

“Marcus got into Georgia State. Isn’t that amazing news?”

Luke puts down his fork.

"He did?" he asks, in the voice he uses when something lands harder than he expected.

"He did." I watch him. "I cried when Mrs. Alvarez told me."

"Yeah," he says. He picks his fork back up. "Yeah. Of course you did."

After a moment of letting the news sink in, he continues. "Is he going?"

"Full scholarship. He leaves in August."

Luke nods slowly. He's quiet for a minute in the way he gets quiet when something is genuinely moving him, and he doesn't quite know what to do with it. I've learned to let those silences sit until he’s ready.

"The center did that for him," he says finally.

"The center helped him believe he could achieve that. He put the work in." I agree.

He reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine. We finish breakfast in comfortable silence. It’s the best meal I’ve had in a long time.

The board meetingis on a Thursday.

I arrive fifteen minutes early, which I always do, and the building receives me the way it always has—the mural kids, the slightly crooked letters, the hum of afternoon programming coming through the walls. Mrs. Alvarez is at her desk when I walk in and stands up immediately, which she never does, which means she's been waiting.

She crosses the room and hugs me.

She's not a hugger.