Page 51 of Balancing Act

Beth let out a soft laugh, though it felt forced, a reflex more than anything. “She leaves that thing everywhere.”

For a moment, there was nothing but awkwardness between them, a tension neither of them dared to acknowledge present. She shifted, suddenly feeling far too aware of how her arms were crossed and the lingering intensity that had taken up space between them since that day in the café.

“Thanks for bringing it by,” she added, glancing down and back up. She didn’t want Jamie to leave, but she didn’t know how to ask her to stay without opening up a conversation she wasn’t sure either of them was ready for.

Jamie hesitated, her fingers brushing nervously through her long curls. She looked at Beth, and for a moment, Beth saw the rawness of what she was feeling in her eyes—it was guarded and fragile, like Jamie was holding herself back.

“Uh... can I come in?” Jamie asked quietly. “There’s something I think we need to talk about.”

Beth’s heart gave a small, involuntary jump. “Yeah, of course,” she said quickly, stepping aside and holding the door open for her. The familiar scent of eucalyptus and spearmint drifted by as Jamie passed her, wrapping around Beth in a swirl of warmth and comfort, like it had the day she’d worn Jamie’s sweatshirt.

Once inside, she led Jamie into the living room. Jamie sat down on the edge of the couch, her posture rigid, like she was fighting to hold herself together.

Beth sat across from her, tucking her legs beneath her, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her body. The silence between them was deafening.

“I’m sorry, Beth,” Jamie finally said. “I’m sorry for running out on you at the café. That wasn’t fair.”

Beth blinked, her heart tightening at the apology. “Jamie, you don’t have to?—”

“I do,” Jamie interrupted. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot and shouldn’t have run like that. You didn’t deserve it. But... it’s what I do. I push people away when things get too real. When I start to feel something I don’t know how to handle, I run.”

Beth stayed quiet, her heart aching. Jamie’s hands were clenched in her lap, her knuckles white. It was like she was trying to hold herself together, piece by piece.

“I’ve done it my whole life,” Jamie continued, her eyes dropping to the floor. “But this time, it felt different. You feel different. And that scares me.”

Beth swallowed, her throat tight. She wanted to reach out—to tell Jamie that it was okay, that she felt those same things, too—but Jamie kept talking, her voice growing shakier with each word.

“And I thought if we stayed just friends, it would be easier. That those feelings would go away.” Jamie’s laugh was bitter, pained. “But the more time I spent around you, the harder it got to ignore them. And then, hearing you talk about Sarah, I realized there are obvious feelings there and that I can’t compete with history. And you were right. I was the one who removed the possibility of there being an ‘us’ in the first place, but in that moment, I realized I never wanted to. So, I did what I always do. I ran.”

Beth felt her heart break a little at those words. She had felt it, too—how things had felt like they were slowly slippingbetween them. But she didn’t say anything, waiting for Jamie to continue, to tell her what she wasn’t saying.

Jamie hesitated, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. Then, with a quiet inhale, she looked up and found her eyes. “There’s another reason I ran. One I haven’t told you about yet. One I haven’t really told anyone.”

Beth held her breath, sensing the weight of what was coming.

“The reason I left everything out of the blue—gymnastics, my old life—it wasn’t because I got tired of it.” Jamie’s voice faltered, her gaze fixed on the floor, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. Beth waited, her heart pounding. “It was because...” Jamie’s voice broke off. She tried again. “I was diagnosed with breast cancer.” Her words dropped like stones into water, their impact radiating outward, Beth’s own heart dropping with them.

Jamie’s voice was quiet but steady as she explained. “It happened right before the Olympic trials. The same cancer that killed my mom. I found out I have the BRCA1 gene, and the doctors told me—” Her voice cracked, and she took a moment to compose herself. “I didn’t want to fight it. Didn’t want to go through what my mom went through. So, I made the choice to disappear. So that when it did catch up with me, I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Beth’s throat constricted. It was unbearable, trying to picture Jamie bearing that fear on her own. And yet, Jamie was sitting in front of her now, alive, but clearly haunted by that decision.

“I didn’t tell anyone at first,” Jamie continued. “Not even Amanda. I was twenty-four, alone, and scared, and I thought if I disappeared, it would be easier for everyone.”

Beth squeezed Jamie’s hand gently, offering comfort without words. Her vulnerability hit her hard, a raw honesty that cut through the tension between them.

“But Amanda found out, and I’ve never seen her so mad. That’s what it took to make me realize I wasn’t as aloneas I thought I was. She convinced me to fight,” Jamie said. “I survived, obviously.” A sad smile appeared before quickly fading. “But it’s not over, Beth. It’s never going to be over. The doctors, they told me it’s not a matter ofifthe cancer comes back, butwhen. It could be years, or it could be months.”

Jamie’s voice strained, and she looked away, her fists clenching in her lap. “How can I ask anyone to take that on? To watch me go through that?” She laughed bitterly, but it was hollow. “I’m a bad investment, Beth. Damaged goods. You deserve someone who can give you a future—not someone with an expiration date hanging over their head.”

Beth’s chest ached at the quiet resignation in Jamie’s voice. She could hear the pain beneath it, the fear Jamie had been carrying alone for so long. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Jamie’s voice was filled with such sadness, such quiet certainty that she was broken beyond repair.

“You’re not damaged, Jamie,” she whispered, squeezing her hand again.

Jamie shook her head, pulling her hand away. “You don’t get it. I don’t know how much time I have, and even if I did, I don’t know if I’d be worth it.” She laughed bitterly. “I’ve never been somebody to anybody. I don’t know how to be in something real. I run from everything. And you deserve better than someone who’s going to drag you into this mess while simultaneously pushing you away.”

Beth opened her mouth to protest, to tell Jamie she was wrong, that she was worth it, but Jamie cut her off.

“If there’s even a part of you that thinks you could make things work with Sarah, you should try. She’s safe, Beth. You two have a history, a family. She’s not going to hurt you the way I will. You’ve got a chance to fix things with her, to rebuild. I don’t want to be the thing that keeps you from doing that.”