Page 95 of Tipping Point

What is he thinking?

You can’t have a life and be a race car driver.

And when his contract ends, so does the only life he’s ever known.

But he refused them when they offered it to him again.

Finnegan Brennan had no intention of being a race car driver anymore.

The edges of my vision are turning black. The noise inside the garage is overwhelming as other teams’ cars tear down the pits to refuel and exchange tyres in the heat of the race.

Something has changed, he’d admitted as much. He is taking more risks. Back in London, before I’d gotten to know him this well, I thought he had found his passion for driving again.

But now, watching him swerve dangerously through corners with a damaged car, my stomach roils.

“That’s enough!” Jack bellows over comms. “You’re risking other drivers. The suspension is shot, pit now!”

Finnegan Brennan has no intention of living at all.

* * *

CAMILLE

Dixon is more than gracious about me tapping out. I can hear he’s curious about the why, but he knows me well enough not to ask.

“Honestly, I’d love to get busy.” He sighs over the phone. I can hear something in his voice. I think it’s regret.

He continues more enthusiastically. “I’ve started drafting the schedule for next year based on the footage you submitted. A lot of the drivers are already booking dates. Seems like you set them at ease when you filmed them this year. It’s going to make next year’s schedule way less of a hassle if we don’t have pushback.”

“That sounds great.”

There’s a pause.

“Cam.”

“Hmm?”

“Is everything okay?”

I think of Finn’s face at the track, how he looked at me with despair, and I recall how he drove, how nauseating the fear was. I would not stand by and watch him kill himself.

“It will be.”

Dixon heaves a heavy sigh.

After we sign off, I draft an update email for the crew, and I ask Casey to reach out to Dixon so that she can help him book his flights and the hotel rooms for the rest of the season.

After I send it, I can hear my phone vibrate on the bedside table as their messages come through, but I fall back on my bed, ignoring them. I know they’re curious and I’m not ready for that conversation. Especially not with Jay.

I’ll make it right with them, just not now.

I book my own flight home and drop Amy a text.

CAMILLE (19:23) See you tomorrow.

It’s half-past one in the morning in London. She won’t read it until she wakes up.

I have a ten-hour flight ahead of me first thing tomorrow morning and I start packing up my stuff.