𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕃𝕖𝕗𝕥 𝕋𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕤

Twenty One

[Wednesday After Talladega] 

"Bailey?" Avery's voice echoed through the quiet apartment as she stepped inside. With Bailey's recent withdrawal from everyone except her family and Alan, Avery felt a growing sense of concern. "Bailey?" she called out again, her voice tinged with worry.

As Avery ventured deeper into the apartment, her eyes fell upon the cluttered kitchen island, adorned with several crumpled fast food bags. With a furrowed brow, she approached the island, inspecting the bags. To her dismay, she discovered remnants of uneaten food inside, adding to her growing concern for her friend.

Avery proceeded toward her friend's bedroom, her footsteps echoing softly against the floor. As she entered, her gaze fell upon Bailey, who sat on her bed amidst a sprawl of clothes, with an open suitcase nearby. Noticing Bailey's headphones, Avery flicked the overhead light switch to draw her attention, hoping to break through the cocoon of solitude Bailey seemed to have enveloped herself in.

Startled by the sudden change in illumination, Bailey removed her headphones, turning her gaze towards the doorway where Avery stood, her concerned expression evident even in the dim light.

"Why are you here?" Bailey inquired, her voice tinged with surprise and the remnants of tears, which she hastily brushed away from her cheeks.

"You haven't been answering my texts, and being the good friend that I am; I used the spare key you gave me to come and check on you," Avery told her, walking further into the bedroom and sitting on the bed.

"Well, as you can see, I'm alive." Bailey sassed, grabbing another handful of clothes from her closet and placing them on the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going back home. At least, I think I am. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"What are you talking about?"

"Chase lost his cool with me after crashing at Dega yesterday," Bailey recounted with a sigh.

"He's such an idiot," Avery remarked, her patience with her best friend's boyfriend wearing thin. "But why does that have you thinking about leaving?"

Bailey hesitated before responding, "I'm starting to doubt if NASCAR is the right fit for me. I get that drivers can snap when they're frustrated, and I know Chase probably didn't mean to lash out at me, but it still happened. I'm not sure I can handle it if it happens again."

"Bailey, you excel at this job. You belong in this sport, and deep down, you know it," Avery reassured her, rising from her place on the bed to embrace Bailey.

"Do I really? I can't even handle being yelled at by Chase." Bailey's uncertainty hung heavy in the air.

"We're in unique positions compared to other PR guys. We're personally involved with the drivers we handle PR for. So when they vent their frustrations and yell at us, it's not just directed at their PR representative; it's directed at their partner."

"But that still doesn't excuse it," Bailey replied firmly.

"I never said it did" Avery sighed, her voice carrying the weight of concern and empathy. "But it does make it more complicated. You're not just dealing with the professional aspect of your job; you're navigating the personal side too."

Bailey leaned into the embrace, finding solace in Avery's understanding words. "I just don't know if I can handle it, Ave. What if it happens again? What if I can't handle it next time?"

Avery pulled back slightly, her gaze meeting Bailey's with unwavering determination. "Then we'll figure it out together, okay? You're not alone in this, Bails. We'll come up with a plan, whether it's setting boundaries with Chase or finding ways to cope with the stress."