Page 64 of Balancing Act
Control had been her only defense for years. When her body had failed her, control was all she had left. It was easier to keep people at a distance and to manage her emotions like a set of neatly packed boxes, each one sealed tight. But with Beth, the edges were fraying, the boxes tipping open, and the control she had spent years perfecting was slipping through her fingers.
Jamie’s fists slowed as the truth settled in her. She wanted Beth. She wanted the possibility of them, together. The idea made her heart pound, not with fear this time, but with something that felt like hope.
Her punches stopped altogether. She stood there, heaving, fists falling to her sides, sweat dripping down her neck.
She was in love with Beth.
Love.The word was terrifying. It tasted risky. Jamie almost wanted to laugh at herself. She didn’t love people—she didn’t let herself get that close to anyone. She had never allowed herself to feel this before. Not like this. Not the kind of love that consumed her, that made her heart feel heavier and lighter simultaneously. It wasn’t just about Beth. It was about her—about the part of her that had been so terrified to let anyone in, to believe that she could have this, that she was worth it. But then, Beth wasn’t just anyone.
Her name felt like a weight in Jamie’s chest. Love. It felt too big, too fast—but also like she had subconsciously known it all along. It terrified her, but it also felt right. Like this was whatshe had been missing for so long, what she had been avoiding without even knowing it.
Jamie’s breaths were uneven, her hands shaking slightly as she lifted them to press against the heavy bag. She leaned her forehead against it, her skin cool against the rough canvas. “I love her,” she whispered to the empty room. The words felt strange in her mouth, unpracticed. Saying it out loud didn’t make it any less terrifying, but it did make it real.
Her mind raced. Could she really do this? Could she let herself have this, knowing all the risks that came with it?
What if the cancer comes back?Jamie was a risk. She had always been a risk.
What if I ruin them?The thought gnawed at her. She had spent years keeping people at arm’s length for this very reason—to protect them from her. From the baggage she carried, the risks she brought. It was safer to stay on the outside and to keep her walls high.
Five years in remission was supposed to feel like freedom, like she had won the fight. But that wasn’t how it worked. Every day, the fear followed her. Every ache, every cough, every sleepless night felt like a reminder that the cancer could come back. And if she let Beth in, if she let her heart hope for something real—what then?How could she ask someone to stay when her body might betray her again?
She tried to shake it off, to remind herself of all the reasons why loving Beth was dangerous. But no matter how often she told herself to stop, the thought kept creeping back. What if this was her chance? What if running away from love, from Beth, was another way of hiding?
But it was the idea of what her life could look like, what her life could be, that excited her. That sent a tingling sensation through her body. It electrified her. She closed her eyes. She could see it. Mornings with Beth, waking up to those amazingblue eyes. Coffee dates and talking about mundane things like who would grocery shop and who would do the laundry. Lily’s laughter and bubbly spirit filling their home. She could see it so clearly. But the vision wavered at the edges, darkened by the shadow of what-ifs. She shook her head, pushing the fear back, but it never disappeared completely. Maybe it didn’t have to. Perhaps it didn’t have to be one or the other. Maybe her fears and hopes could live side by side.
Jamie pushed off the bag, her gloves falling to the floor with a soft thud. She sank onto the bench, burying her face in her hands. Her heart was pounding again, but this time, the fear didn’t win out. It was a possibility. The pull of something bigger than herself that she couldn’t ignore any longer.
She wanted Beth. And she was in love with her.
It wasn’t one moment that made her realize it; it was a hundred little moments strung together. It was how Beth looked at her that night at the gallery, as if Jamie was worth seeing. It was how she listened without judgment and cared without asking for anything in return. It was the way Beth laughed—that soft, warm sound that made Jamie want to smile every time she heard it. It was in Beth’s patience, even when Jamie knew she was being difficult. Hell, it was even in how Jamie felt protective over Lily—the need to remove as many obstacles for her as she could.
It was all of it. Every moment. Every look. Every quiet conversation over the last three months. It had all slowly and quietly built up until it hit Jamie like a freight train.
Maybe the cancer would come back. Perhaps she’d mess things up. But maybe—just maybe—Beth would be willing to face those fears with her, together.
She stood up slowly, her legs still shaky from the workout. But what she felt for Beth wasn’t something she could ignoreanymore. It terrified her—the idea of saying it out loud, of putting it into words.
She needed to talk to Beth, and soon, before the fear could claw her back into hiding. Before she convinced herself that this was too dangerous. Because even though it terrified her, the thought of losing Beth was worse.
That evening, the gentle hum of rain pattered against the roof of Jamie’s van, lulling her into a state of almost peace. She lay in bed, cocooned in blankets, the chilly night air seeping through the barely cracked window. The Pacific Northwest had that way about it—wrapping everything in a kind of quiet melancholy that seemed to mirror her mood.
She’d grown accustomed to the solitude her van provided, parked beneath the canopy of towering pines. It was a life she had chosen, or at least one she had settled into. She liked its simplicity and the way it allowed her to keep people and emotions at a comfortable distance. But that distance was becoming more challenging to maintain.
She picked up her phone and scrolled till she found Beth’s name. Would Beth laugh if she knew how long Jamie had agonized over a single text? Would she even want to talk? She couldn’t help the way she pictured Beth, glancing at her phone and seeing her text, rolling her eyes, and tossing it aside. She couldn’t call her. The conversation she wanted to have—no, needed to have—wasn’t one you do over the phone.
Her mind had spent the better part of the day turning over her realization from earlier, trying to examine it from every which way, but there was no point. She was in love with Beth Walsh.
Jamie reached out, picked up her phone again, and pulled up her text thread with Beth. She typed out a message—“Hey, I think we should talk”—but immediately deleted it, her thumb hovering over the empty text box as a knot tightened in herchest. It felt too direct. Too much. She tossed her phone aside, but her fingers itched to pick it back up. Maybe she should call? No, that wasn’t right either. It felt like her emotions were too big to fit in words on a screen, but at the same time, the idea of saying them out loud made her squirm.
She didn’t want to make the first move after pushing Beth away for weeks, but she knew she needed to. But what if Beth didn’t feel the same? What if this was all wishful thinking—some fantasy her mind had cooked up to distract her from the real issue: the fear that she wasn’t enough? Not healthy enough, not stable enough, not... lovable enough.
She rolled onto her side, wrapping the blankets tighter around her as her mind swirled. Why was this so hard? She knew what she had to do. She’d have to take her chances and know rejection was possible.
Her phone buzzed beside her, shattering the fragile quiet of her evening. Jamie frowned, expecting to see a message from Amanda, but the name on the screen made her pause.
Beth.
Her heart jumped. It was the first real message she’d gotten from her in weeks, outside of the brief, obligatory greetings at the gym or a quiet nod in passing.