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Saint
Sunday - July 3
All I hear is the crashing and crunching of metal over the radio. The final scream of my name from her mouth as I stand and see smoke coming from turn twelve. My body is in panic mode; I glance at Bud who is stoic, no emotion showing.
I rip off my headset and turn to look at him. “You better pray that you didn’t have anything to do with that,” I warn as he laughs.
“She can’t fucking drive. I told you.”
I hear the ambulances rushing to where she is. The safety crews are dispatched, and I glance at the monitor on the top of the pit box, where the replay of the crash is being broadcast. My stomach bottoms out as I slide down the ladder of the pit box and meet Mac.
“I need to get over there,” I scream at him.
“No one is going to let you over there, Saint. You know this. I need you to calm down.” He steps in my way, and I go to push him. The sight of Elle from the corner of my eye draws my attention away. Her face is pale, there is no color in it as she watches the crash over and over again.
“Go to the hauler and change,” Mac instructs. “She hasn’t gotten out on her own yet. We won’t know where they are taking her until the officials come over. I’ll handle it from here. Take Elle with you. We’ll get a car.”
I nod and pull Elle with me. As I approach the hauler, I hear a snarky voice. “I knew you were fucking her,” Bud spits out. I have no control. None. I rip away from Elle, my hands fisted at my sides, and charge at him, cocking my arm back and landing a punch square in his jaw.
He stumbles, and I counter with a left hook. “You piece of shit! You did this to her. I will find out how and I will prove it! Mark my words,” I bellow as I am pulled off him by race officials.
Elle gasps as I hear a helicopter in the distance. That can’t be good. I look at Elle. “They are air lifting her to Cleveland Clinic,” she says barely louder than a whisper.
I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her. “She’ll be okay. She’ll have to be okay.”
“Mr. Matthews?” An officer clears his throat. “We need you to vacate the premises now.”
I nod and look at Elle. “I’ll order an Uber. I’ll meet you outside in fifteen. I need to get her stuff from the RV.”
I nod again and let the officer escort me out of the hauler area as Bud watches with a fucking smirk on his face. Fucker. I know he had something to do with this, and I’m going to prove it.
***
Five days later - July 8
Elle, Mac, and I have been holding a vigil in Haisley’s hospital room. She’s been in the intensive care unit since the accident and hasn’t woken up yet.
The doctors were surprised that she had no significant damages. No broken bones, no internal bleeding. Her head MRI and CT scan were clear for hemorrhages. No bleeding on her brain, although they stated she most likely suffered a major concussion, and her brain is working on healing itself.
I haven’t left her side. I’ve been parked in a chair holding her hand for the last five days. I’m pretty sure I smell bad and look like shit. The hospital brought one of those pull-out couches in for Elle to sleep on, and I'm glad she has slept. One of us needs to.
Mac flew back to North Carolina last night because he needed to handle a few things with Neil, such as the investigation into the wreck, the allegations of sabotage that Elle discretely leaked to the media.
I, as the car chief, and of course with the subsequent assault on Bud, was suspended until further notice. It didn’t matter. I don’t care. The only thing that matters right now is the woman lying in this hospital bed.
I lace our fingers together and bring her hand to my mouth. I place a light kiss on it. Elle stepped out to take a call. I run my hand over Haisley’s hair.
“Sweetheart, I know you are in there. I know you can hear me. I need you to know that I need you to come back to me. I need you to be okay. The doctors keep saying that your brain is just resting from the beating it took. But I’m dying without you. I need you to open your eyes. I need you to speak. I need to hear your voice...” I trail off, my eyes tearing up. “Fuck, sweetheart, I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t wake up. I love you, Haisley. Please wake up.”
I place my forehead on her stomach, needing to be close to her. I let the tears come slowly and will probably never admit that I cried. But, Jesus, she came into my life in haste and took everything of mine: my heart, my love, me.
I close my eyes and wait. I don’t know how long I waited, I’m not even sure what day it was, except for the reminder on the dry erase board. I feel her fingers tighten against mine. I pop my head up to see her struggling to open her eyes.
I jump up and cup her face. “Haisley?”
She blinks a few times and groans at the pain she must be experiencing. “Sai...Saint?” she mumbles, her mouth dry. I nod my head and place a kiss on her lips.
“Sweetheart,” I whisper as Elle returns.
