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I stop and turn to face him. “Maybe you need a lesson in subtle hints. When someone storms away from you and continues to walk in the opposite direction, they don’t want to fucking talk to you,” I scream as Elle attempts to calm me down.
“Haisley, enough,” she says pulling me to a stop. “Saint is only concerned about you, as am I.”
“I’m sure it’s just from the added stress of the Bud situation, and the media storm around it,” I offer back.
“But you should have told us, so you didn’t risk dying on that track,” Saint pipes in.
“I wasn’t going to die,” I huff back.
“No? You weren’t? For about six laps there, you spaced out and weren’t answering us on the radio. Can you explain that?” he questions.
“I’m not doing this with you right now,” I remark and start walking back to the RV. “I’m heading home. Elle, you can accompany me, or you can charter a different flight.”
I walk away from the both of them and enter the RV to grab my stuff. I order an Uber quickly and wait.
“You should have told us, Haisley,” Elle reiterates as she climbs up into the RV.
“I didn’t think much about it until Saint spun me around and I got nauseous. He didn’t have to freak out like that,” I insist.
“He had every right to flip out as both your crew chief—as it’s his job to protect you and keep you as safe as possible— and as your boyfriend.”
“Is that what he is? My boyfriend?” I snap.
“I’m pretty sure that’s what you call each other when you tell the other you love them. Why are you being such a bitch?” she calls me out.
“You can fuck off as well,” I roar at her as the Uber arrives.
