Page 105 of Tipping Point

“Jay, can we move the camera over to this angle?”

He steps over to move the equipment and I change the angle slightly, looking at the monitor to make sure we frame them correctly. Grace takes up half the screen. Her daughter, on the left, casts a striking mirror image, and the differences between them stand out. The angry red scars on Grace’s face are balanced out by Hope’s fresh skin, a healthy red glow on her cheeks. Their matching hair colour, Grace’s streaked with grey, Hope’s vibrant and shiny. Hope’s easy smile as she talks to Casey. Grace’s peaceful silence.

Dixon gives a sigh of contentment.

“You know, it’s always such a joy to watch you work.”

“Thanks, Boss.” I tuck a curl behind my ear.

Finn’s hand darts out as if to stop me. The movement out of the corner of my eye grabs my attention and I turn to him. He’s standing very still now. He’s still staring at me intently with his brown, open eyes.

I can’t help it. I have to know.

“Are you okay?” I gesture at Grace.

He scowls, licks at the corner of his mouth, nods.

Liar.

I turn back to thank Casey as she packs away her makeup kit.

To my surprise she steps up to Bruce and sidles into his side, Bruce’s arm drawing her closer against him as they wait for the interview to start. She gives me a shy smile when she sees me looking and I give her a happy nod.

Everyone scurries for their positions, and Jay carries an extra chair over and places it next to Hope’s. Finn sits down with jerky movements, wincing from pain. When he turns his head to look at Hope, she mirrors him.

They are drawing strength from each other.

How could he have kept this from me? This beautiful, kind young woman, mirror image of her mother. This girl who now looks at him with silent fortitude.

How could he have this and still wish to die?

I’m battling an influx of memories. The harsh black eyes and scowls, his intent on keeping me out, the moments he caved and drew me in, the push and pull of him, the pain.

And now he sits here with peaceful dark brown eyes, flecks of gold in them, and he looks about as fragile as I’ve ever known him to be, prepared to lay it all on the table.

Just never for me.

All my anger rushes back in.

* * *

FINN

“I lied before,” I say into the room before we start. I can feel Hope’s curious gaze on my face and I watch Camille’s small frown form as she looks up from the monitor to look at me.

“You asked me if I was okay, and I lied.”

I watch as a red flush creeps up her neck. When I look at her eyes, they’re an undulating ocean, a stormy sea. She isn’t embarrassed.

She’s furious.

“Can you elaborate?” she parries.

“No.”

“Please follow the established interview structure by stating the question before you give the answer.”

Because I can’t help it, I rise to the bait.

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