Page 34 of Balancing Act

“I haven’t been hiding.” Her words were half-hearted, giving herself away.

“What else would you call disappearing without saying anything and moving to a remote location where only a few people know how to get in touch with you?” Amanda tilted her head, her hands on her hips, waiting for Jamie’s response as her question hung between them.

Jamie was quiet for a few moments. Amanda wasn’t wrong.

Amanda slipped her hand into Jamie’s, gently squeezing her before letting go.

“I’m worried about you.”

Bright green eyes bore into Jamie, and she felt a heaviness descend on her, the weight of the last seven years sitting on her shoulders.

“I just...” She stopped in her tracks, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of her throat constricting. Damn it. This was whyshe didn’t like talking about her feelings—because she always ended up like this. Like she, tough-as-nails Jamie Lyons, could actually cry. “You have no idea what I went through,” she choked out.

Amanda gave her a sympathetic look but didn’t back down.

“I don’t?”

Yeah, Amanda was definitely annoyed now. Jamie glanced down at her feet again. “Jamie, I’m the only one who knows what you’ve been through, because I’m the only one patient enough to push past your emotional walls.” Frustration coated her words as Amanda continued, her fiery tendency taking over as Jamie stood in front of her, taking it. She deserved that much. “And thank God I did, because if I hadn’t, I don’t think you would’ve ever told me—your best friend, Jamie—that you had gotten diagnosed with fucking breast cancer, or that you weren’t planning on trying to fight it. Do you know how that felt? Knowing you didn’t think I was worth leaning on?” Amanda’s voice cracked as her chest heaved, and she wiped away her tears. She had always been an angry crier.

There it was, after seven years—a conversation that had been long overdue. Finally having been said out loud, the words hung heavy in the open air between them.

Jamie had never planned on telling anyone about her cancer diagnosis. She had never planned on trying to beat it.

A tightness filled her chest, and she felt like her heart was being squeezed too tight. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She wanted to run, to get away from this conversation and this feeling. No, correction. Sheneededto get away. She felt her fingertips twitch against her thigh where she had been holding it unnaturally stiff.

Amanda’s face softened as she looked at Jamie, and the intensity of her previous statement faded.

“Jamie, I love you, but it’s time for you to come home. Come back to Seattle and start living your life again.”

That word.Home.Did Jamie even have a home? It had been so long since this place had made her feel any sense of that word. Her skin prickled with her discomfort, and she glanced to the side.

Amanda flashed her a knowing smirk. “How badly do you want to take off running right now?”

“More than anything,” she responded hoarsely, “and I hate that you know that about me.” Jamie’s voice shook slightly with the threat of tears.

“Someone has to know you like that, Lyons.”

Amanda took a step toward Jamie and wrapped her tightly in a hug. It took a moment before her shoulders relaxed into her friend’s arms.

“You deserve to have people know you,” Amanda said softly, “but no one can do that if you don’t let them in.” She pulled back, keeping her hands firmly on Jamie’s shoulders. “You’re one of the best people in the world, and nobody but me knows. It’s tragic.”

Was she, though? Or was she old news? A washed-up Olympian, the once-great Jamie Lyons, America’s golden gymnastics girl who had let down her entire country with one single social-media post.

She wiggled free from Amanda’s hold and spun around, wiping at the corners of her eyes to conceal the tears that were stinging and making her vision blurry. “Fuck feelings,” she groaned.

“It’s okay to cry, Jamie.” Amanda touched Jamie’s shoulder, rubbing small, comforting circles.

“I don’t cry. You know that.” She turned back around. “And besides,” she said, her overly chipper tone sounding so unnatural, “there’s nothing to cry about. We’re good.”

Amanda didn’t say anything. Green eyes searched Jamie’s face, trying to read between the lines of what she wasn’t saying.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Her response was, once again, too quick to be believable.

They were silent again, Amanda’s gaze never leaving Jamie, who had suddenly found herself very interested in a patch of dirt beside her left shoe.

“Does this have anything to do with what’s happening between you and Beth?” Amanda asked quietly. Jamie’s eyes snapped up, words leaving her mouth before she had time to think.