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What the fuck are these two up to?
***
Sunday - Race Day
After the shit show that was the almost fight, Drake was removed from the event as was Saint, who flew back to North Carolina last night. Mac assured me that Neil has everything under control, but I just don’t feel right.
I’m sitting in the RV waiting for the driver introductions. My phone rings and hoping it’s Saint, I pick it up quickly.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Haisley, what the fuck is going on there?”
It’s Elle.
“Everything is going wrong, Elle. Everything. Drake attacked me; Saint flew off the handle, which only added to the already thick tension between us, and now I have to race with no one here I trust besides Neil. But he’s not the same. And I qualified fucking twenty-fifth,” I ramble into the phone, tears threatening on my face.
“I saw the news report, and Mac called me. I’ve already jumped into PR mode and released a statement,” she informs me.
“How’s Grams?”
“She’s doing well, honestly. She’s home, which you knew, and is getting ready to watch the race. Her headaches are better, and I have the private aide here to help as well,” Elle explains to me as I nod to myself.
“Well, maybe she shouldn’t watch the race. I don’t want her getting upset and something happening.”
“Do you really think I’m going to be able to persuade her to not watch you race?” Elle huffs into the phone.
“It’ll be worth a shot,” I mumble back as I look over at the clock. “Shit, I have to walk down for introductions. I’ll call you after the race on the way to the airport.”
“Go be yourself. Focus on the track and on your safety, okay?”
“Yes, Mom. Love you,” I say before hanging up the phone. I exit the RV, my fire suit half off hanging around my waist. I’ll finish zipping it up before I hit the garages. It’s rather warm today in Detroit.
I round the corner to the garage area and see it empty. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing my car and crew are on pit road. Mac is waiting for me as usual. “Your head in the game?”
I nod. “I’m good. Have you heard from Saint?” Mac nods his head. “Great, am I the only one he doesn’t want to talk to?” I question as Mac escorts me to the intro area.
“What happened between you two?” Mac inquires, and I shrug my shoulders.
“He’s been distant since the hospital, so I really don’t know. Thought maybe you’d have an idea,” I suggest.
“I’m pretty sure the entire situation is weighing on him, especially the whole ‘not at work’ thing.”
I roll my eyes. “That was a mutually agreed upon discussion, Mac. For multiple reasons.”
“I’m only taking an educated guess, Haisley. But you need to focus on the race and not on this right now. He knows it and you know it.”
I nod again, line up, and wait to be introduced. The entire situation has messed with my head. Memorial Day feels like it was a century ago. I never expected him to go silent like this after we slept together, after the support he offered me with my Grams. It was like the switch flipped once we arrived in Detroit.
I hear my name called, and one of the television assistants cues me to exit the waiting area. I smile and wave to the fans and the cameras. I just want this race to be over with so I can fly home and figure out what the fuck is going on with Saint and me.
***
Sunday Night
“Well, that was shitty race,” Mac states as we buckle in for the plane ride home.
“Thanks, captain obvious,” I mutter in return. “I’m pretty sure that I was driving the car.”
“Don’t be testy.” He smirks at me.
“I’m not happy with the finish,” I reiterate. “Twentieth blows.”
“Yes, and Saint agrees,” Mac says nonchalantly.
“Oh, both of you go fuck yourselves,” I snap and place my earbuds into my ears. That was not my best driving. Not by far. I tried to push all of the shit out of my mind, but it didn’t work. I open my text messages up and send one off to Saint.
Me:You can’t call or talk to me directly? But you can call Mac?
There was no answer, and I didn’t expect one either. I’m not sure what the fuck happened in literally three days, but I don’t need to be treated that way.
