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“Use your weight adjusters. We want this position,” Saint replies as I scroll through my screens on the back straightaway.
“Three to go, Haisley,” Eric reminds us.
“Roger,” I acknowledge as I pull low into the corner. We’re coming up on the start/finish line as I open the throttle passing another car. Holy shit! This is one of the highest spots I’ve been in on an oval.
“One to go,” Saint calls out. “Hold it there, Hais.”
I do my best and maintain position through the final turns, finishing third.
“That’s my girl!” Saint yells into the radio as I do a cool-down lap, praying I have fuel to get back.
The crew is waiting in pit road when I cut the engine and climb out of the car.
“Amazing finish,” Mac says as he fist bumps me.
Saint is off the pit box and walking toward me. He picks me up and swings me around. “That was the best driving I’ve seen from you.” He places me down, and I feel really nauseous.
I bend over ready to vomit all over my fire suit.
“Haisley, what’s going on? Haisley?” Saint asks bending down to meet me.
I hold up my hand to calm him. “Nausea.”
“How long have you been having symptoms?” He demands as he stands up with me, his hand holding my arm.
“A few days,” I tell him, knowing he won’t drop this. “This isn’t the place to talk about it.”
“You’re right. We’re going to the hauler, now.” He motions for Elle who jogs over.
“What’s up?” I watch her glance between Saint and me.
“Can you cancel her media, please? She’s having symptoms, and I’m pretty sure the attitude the last few days comes with this.”
Elle shoot me an ‘are you fucking kidding me’ look. I shrug my shoulders.
“We’re going to the hauler,” Saint says as he pulls me towards the intended target.
Once we get inside, he places me on the couch in the lounge area and sits across from me. “When were you going to tell Elle or me?”
I shrug. “I wasn’t going to.”
He stands and starts pacing the small area we are confined in. “You didn’t tell me you were having symptoms, and you let me put you in a car going two hundred miles per hour. What were you thinking?” His voice raises as he runs his hands through his hair.
“Apparently, I wasn’t thinking. The nausea was just after you twirled me around,” I protest.
“Oh, so that’s my fault? You not telling us is my fault?”
“No, Saint, it’s all my fault. Is that what you want me to tell you? Is that what you want to hear? I’ve had headaches for the last three days. I didn’t want this bullshit, this argument, or the fucking media storm behind it,” I argue.
“So, you let me put you in a fucking racecar? I thought you were smarter than that?”
I stand up and point my finger into his chest, “Go fuck yourself,” I tell him as I step around him and storm out of the hauler. Elle is waiting outside as Saint runs after me.
“What’s going on?” Elle asks as I pull her towards the RV.
“I’m fucking done with being treated like a child,” I yell behind me towards Saint.
“You wouldn’t be treated like a child if you were honest with all of us,” he replies as he continues to follow us.
