Page 102 of Tipping Point

We missed each other physically. He flew out as I flew back, and I’ve been evasive when he enquires about my sudden departure. He’s been respectful of my privacy, but I suspect it’s wearing thin. Amy had a few quiet conversations on her phone, and I think she’s been keeping him in the loop. He’s always cared about us as people. So if he isn’t pressing me for answers, he’s sure as hell getting them from somewhere else.

I make a mental note to strangle Amy.

“Dixon! How’s it going?”

“Good. Crazy actually.” I can hear the tiredness in his voice. I had forgotten the fast pace of it, how exhausting it had been in the beginning.

I smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Cam, we have a problem.”

I sit up straighter.

“What’s up?”

“Brennan’s out for the rest of the season. Collar bone and ribs.”

I nod, realise he can’t see me, and clear my throat. “Yeah?”

“He’s being replaced by a Delta Victor reserve, but his agent reached out. It’s a sensitive subject.”

I frown. “What’s going on?”

“Cam, I wouldn’t be asking if I had any other choice.”

My stomach twists in knots.

“Spit it out.”

“He was in an accident years ago, sort of the beginning of the end for Finnegan Brennan.”

“I know the history.” I recall Finn’s hollow eyes. How they have haunted me these past few weeks.

“Well, his agent made contact. He wants to film in Austin. Brennan wants to recount the accident. The survivor’s family gave the go ahead.”

“What?”

What the fuck?

“I know. It’s documentary gold. He’s literally never spoken out about it before. Thing is, he’s willing to go on camera, but only if you’re there to film it.”

I scoff. It’s silent on the line. For the life of me, I don’t know what to say.

“Cam,” Dixon begins tentatively, “I know things went down and, to a certain extent, I think I know why you walked away.”

I’m still quiet. But it’s because my throat is closing up. Tears are burning behind my closed eyes.

“But this is different.”

“No,” I say, my voice thick. I cannot let him reel me back in. Into a world he has no intention of being part of.

“Did I ever tell you how I met my wife?” Dixon’s voice is normal, even though I’m sure it pains him to talk about her. He continues without waiting for my answer.

“Lost my wallet on the metro. She found it, returned it. I took her out for lunch as a thank you. The rest is history.”

“I’m so sorry for the last couple of years.”

“I’m not.” His voice is firm, but laden with emotion. “I would never take back a moment that I spent with her.”

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