Page 39 of Balancing Act (Soulmate #1)

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 her chest. 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.

Beth 9:07 PM

Hey, stranger.

Jamie stared at the text, her thumb hovering over the screen. For a moment, she thought about ignoring it, leaving it unanswered, the way she’d left so many of her feelings with Beth—untouched, unspoken, buried beneath layers of self-protection.

But then came the second part of the message.

Beth 9:07 PM

Want to go for a walk tomorrow morning? I know a place.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, torn between the instinct to pull away and the nagging pull she always felt when it came to Beth. This was what she needed: an opening outside of the gym to talk to her, and Beth was offering it up on a silver platter.

The park Beth had chosen for them to meet at the following morning was tucked away and quiet, with tall pines lining a winding dirt path.

When Jamie arrived, the sky was a pale gray, and the rain had turned from a steady drizzle to a light mist, the kind that hung in the air without really falling.

She pulled her hood up, shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket, and tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted with nerves.

She immediately spotted Beth standing near the edge of the parking lot, looking out at the trees. The hood of her purple raincoat was up, face barely visible underneath the bill of the Puget Sound Pride hat. Jamie would have recognized her anywhere, though.

“Hey.” Beth’s voice was soft as Jamie approached, her breath forming small clouds in the chilly air.

“Hey,” Jamie replied, her voice catching a little. “Nice spot.”

“I thought it’d be good for some fresh air,” she answered simply.

The pause stretched before them, held down by words neither of them uttered. Jamie wasn’t sure if she should hug Beth or stay back. Their boundaries had become so blurry that even standing this close felt strange.

“Shall we?” Beth gestured toward the path and started walking, boots crunching softly on the damp pine needles.

Jamie followed, falling into step beside her. At first, the sound of their footsteps and the gentle rustle of trees in the breeze filled the silence as they adjusted to the rhythm of the walk.

“So...” Beth began, after a few moments.

“I’ve been meaning to reach out, but everything has felt so complicated.

” Her voice was casual, but Jamie caught the tension that pulled at her words.

Beth hesitated. “I’ve been trying to figure things out.

After everything with us and then Sarah—I didn’t know what I wanted, not really.

But then I realized I’ve known for a while. ”

Jamie nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Things had been complicated. More than either of them had probably wanted to admit.

“Yeah,” Jamie finally said, the rain making it easier to hide her discomfort. “I’m glad you did—reach out, that is.”

They walked a little longer in silence. Jamie kept her eyes on the path ahead, her heart beating a little too fast to be comfortable.

Every instinct told her to keep her guard up, not to let this moment—this person—get too close.

But she knew she would never move forward without pulling her walls down.

She inhaled shakily as she worked up the courage to tell Beth what she needed to say.

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said quickly, the words rushing out of her clunky and dense.

At the same time the words left her mouth, Beth also spoke.

“I ended things with Sarah.”

She didn’t look at Beth. A whooshing noise in her ears consumed her senses. That had been the absolute last thing Jamie had expected her to say. “Oh,” she said dumbly. “Thanks for telling me.”

What the fuck, Jamie. What a dumb thing to say.

Pull it together, Lyons. She berated herself as they continued to walk in silence and Jamie struggled to find the words to be vulnerable.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. I haven’t entirely been sure what to say to you since—” Her voice cracked as Beth started speaking over top of her, and Jamie couldn’t help but recoil at the slight bite in her words.

“I don’t need an apology, Jamie. I don’t need you to feel guilty about this.”

Jamie frowned, confused. “Then what do you want?”

Beth’s lips twitched into a small, almost sad smile.

“I want honesty. That’s it. Just tell me the truth—about whatever is going on in your head.

” She glanced at Jamie from under the hood of her jacket.

Her blue eyes were stormy and dark, reflecting the grayness of the morning.

“Can you do that for me? Because I’m drowning in everything we’re not saying to each other. ”

All her defenses were useless under Beth’s gaze. The walls she usually relied on to keep everything in check, to keep her emotions hidden, felt flimsy and exposed.

Beth stopped walking and turned toward Jamie, a seriousness in her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, and Jamie couldn’t help but marvel at Beth’s ability to be so put together in a moment like this.

“How about we make it easier?” Beth offered, her tone lighter now, a teasing edge slipping into her words. “True or false. You answer honestly, and I won’t push for more. Deal?”

Jamie blinked at her, a little thrown off by the suggestion. “True or false?” she clarified. “Like the game?”

Beth nodded, her smile widening a fraction. “Yeah. Simple questions. True or false. That way, it’s not a whole big thing. Just small truths.”

“Okay. True or false.”

Beth’s words hung in the air between them— I want honesty . Jamie could do that, or at least she could try.

“You ready?” Beth said again, her voice breaking the silence.

Jamie inhaled deeply, glancing over at Beth. She wasn’t sure where this was going, but there was something in Beth’s tone that made her nod.

“True or false: you like pineapple on pizza?”

Jamie blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected question. Shaking her head and laughing, she answered. “False. I firmly believe that pineapple has no place on a pizza.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” she said, laughing. “I’m a Hawaiian pizza enthusiast.”

“Guess we’re pizza incompatible.” Jamie shrugged, unable to help her grin.

Beth gave her a teasing nudge that Jamie wanted to sink into.

“We’ll figure it out. I’m sure we can find common ground.” The playful banter brought a brief, much-needed ease to the conversation, but both knew the real questions hadn’t started yet.

“True or false: you miss being an elite gymnast,” Beth asked, cocking her head just so.

Jamie’s smile faded, her heart tightening in her chest. She hadn’t expected Beth to go there—to dive right into the personal stuff. Okay. We’re doing this , she thought, taking a breath, staring at the rain-soaked ground beneath their feet.