Page 70 of Balancing Act (Soulmate #1)

TWENTY-SIX

JAMIE

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think it’s actually happening.” Shannon York grinned, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “Everything is lined up for the launch next week.”

Jamie scanned the chaos spread out before them—papers stacked haphazardly, snack wrappers shoved to the side, coffee cups in various states of emptiness.

The coworking space in Downtown Seattle had become their unofficial headquarters, and after hours of fine-tuning every last detail of Empwr’s launch, exhaustion was starting to set in.

“It almost feels too lined up,” she muttered, half to herself. “Like we’re tempting fate.”

Shannon rolled her eyes. “Relax, Jamie. We’ve done everything we needed to. Now it’s time to be excited.”

Jamie huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Excitement was there—somewhere underneath the anxiety, the pressure of making sure this thing they had built worked.

“Yeah,” she murmured, reaching for her coffee. “I guess we’re doing this.” Jamie wrapped her hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into her palms as she glanced across the table at Shannon.

Jamie didn’t know what she had expected when she agreed to partner with her, but she didn’t expect the friendship she now valued.

At first, it had just been business—the two of them grinding toward the same goal, nothing more—but after months of late nights, chaotic brainstorming sessions, and too much caffeine, she realized she had made a friend along the way.

Shannon was quick-witted, sharp, and surprisingly easy to talk to.

Yeah. She didn’t hate making new friends. Who knew?

Shannon stretched her arms over her head. “God, I need sleep. Or tequila. Maybe both.”

Jamie smirked. “Sleep first, tequila after your game tomorrow. Drinks on me if you win.”

Shannon pointed at her. “See? This is why I keep you around. You keep me responsible.”

Jamie scoffed before taking a sip of her coffee. “I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being the responsible one.”

Shannon snorted but tilted her head slightly. “Hey, isn’t Lily competing today?”

Jamie blinked, her brain still caught in the whirlwind of spreadsheets and launch plans.

The competition. Shit. She was supposed to call Beth.

She fumbled for her phone, her pulse kicking up as she checked the time. She’d been so caught up in work that she hadn’t even thought to check in with Beth.

“Yeah,” Jamie said quickly, already swiping to FaceTime. “The competition is about to start. Mind if I duck out for a bit? I need to call Beth.”

Shannon nodded, saying she could use a break herself. They agreed to meet back at their table once Jamie had wrapped up.

Jamie wove her way through the coworking space, swiping a snack from the kitchen before finding a quiet place to call.

“Just in time,” Beth murmured, a weak smile pulling at her lips. The video feed adjusted, and suddenly, Jamie had a front-row seat in the arena.

Jamie grinned, leaning closer to the screen. “Hell yeah. Let’s go, Lils!”

She couldn’t see Beth’s face with the camera focused on Lily, bouncing on her toes, shaking out her arms before stepping onto the mat, but there was that quiver in her voice, in the way it faltered ever so slightly that gave her pause.

“Wait. What’s wrong?” Jamie asked, her brow furrowing.

Beth hesitated. “Nothing. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Jamie didn’t push, but she knew that tone.

Instead, she focused on Lily, the routine, and the moment. Whatever it was, she and Beth would talk about it later.

They always did.

Jamie stayed on the call until Lily stuck her final pass, and then Beth turned the camera to show the scoreboard.

“Tell her I said she crushed it.” Jamie smiled.

“You tell her.”

“Later, I promise. I need to get back to Shannon.”

Beth rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Okay, later.”

The call ended, and Jamie sat there for a moment, staring at the now-dark screen.

Something was off with Beth. She made a mental note to follow up with her when they talked later that evening.

Jamie slid back into her chair across from Shannon, stretching her arms over her head with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, tell me good news,” Jamie said, sipping her now lukewarm coffee.

Shannon smirked as she flipped through a few notes on her laptop. “Well, for one, I managed to secure that last-minute investor meeting for next week.”

“Nice,” Jamie said, impressed with how productive Shannon had been in the short time she had been gone.

“How did Lily do?”

Jamie couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Amazing. She’s come a long way since I met her in September. She has a good shot at placing high in all her events this weekend, which is exactly what she needs for that push toward Olympic trials.”

Shannon’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously? Do you think she could make the Olympic team? She’s only what, fifteen?”

“Yeah. She’ll be sixteen by the end of the year, which means she meets the age requirement. Skill was never the question,” Jamie said, pride swelling. “She’s gonna be amazing, I know it.”

She didn’t mind talking about Lily, or Beth. She increasingly realized how much she liked talking about them with others. Jamie had never been the type to gush about her personal life, but with Shannon, it was like they’d been friends for years already.

“Speaking of Lily,” Shannon said, leaning forward with a sly look. “You get this dopey little grin whenever you talk about Beth and her kid. It’s kinda cute.”

Jamie scoffed. “I do not.”

Shannon’s smirk only deepened. “You absolutely do. You’re full-on heart-eyes over there.”

Jamie shook her head, but she could feel the heat creeping up her neck. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe I am,” Shannon said, sipping her coffee. “But anyone with eyes can tell how in love you are.”

Jamie shook her head with a smile. “Yeah,” she admitted, barely above a murmur. “I am.”

“And speaking of young talent—we signed a sixteen-year-old to the team. Amazing footballer. Insane field vision. She’s a little shy, still finding her confidence, but she’s got talent.

She just needs to believe she belongs there.

” Shannon glanced up, tilting her head. “Kind of like how Lily was when you first met her, right?”

Jamie nodded in agreement.

“We should introduce Lily to Wren,” Shannon said, tapping her fingers against her coffee cup. “Might be good for Wren to meet someone close to her age who’s already stepping into the big leagues. She could use someone to talk to, too. It’s a lot of pressure at that age.”

Jamie considered it, tilting her head. “That’s not a bad idea. Lily would probably get a kick out of meeting her, and if Wren’s feeling out of place, maybe having a friend who gets it could help.”

Shannon grinned, brown eyes gleaming. “Look at you.”

But before Shannon could make another comment, Jamie’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen.

Dr. Albright’s Office.

Her stomach dropped, and a wave of anxiety crashed over her.

The warmth in her chest vanished, replaced by a cold, creeping dread.

She hesitated—just for a second—before picking up. “Hello?”

“Jamie, this is Dr. Albright’s office,” a calm voice said on the other end. “We got the results from your recent scans, and we need you to come in for some follow-up tests. There’s a few abnormalities we want to follow up on.”

Jamie’s fingers curled around the phone, gripping it too tightly. Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs.

No. No, no, no.

This was it—the moment she’d been dreading for the last seven years.

Shannon must have noticed the shift in her demeanor because she had turned cautious. “Jamie?”

Jamie swallowed, her throat dry. “Uh... yeah. Okay. Um—” She cleared her throat, trying to force the words out. “I’ll call you back to schedule something.”

“Jamie, we’d really like to get this on the books as soon as possible?—”

“I’ll call you back,” she said quickly, her pulse hammering in her ears.

She hung up before they could argue.

Shannon was watching her closely now, concern etched into her face. “What’s wrong?”

Jamie pushed back from the table so fast that her chair scraped against the floor. “I—I just remembered I need to take care of this thing,” she blurted out.

Shannon frowned. “Wait, what? Jamie?—”

“I’ll see you Sunday,” Jamie muttered, grabbing her keys.

She had no plan, no destination. Only one overwhelming thought: I can’t be here right now .

She was out the door before Shannon could stop her.

Jamie blinked sleep from her eyes as she adjusted to the dimly lit room.

Her head throbbed, and she pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead, willing the pain to go away.

She blinked again as the room came more into focus.

She didn’t remember how she got where she was or how long she’d been there.

At some point in the early hours of Saturday morning, she must have parked her car, let herself into Amanda’s apartment, and collapsed onto the couch.

She vaguely recalled taking a shower—lukewarm water trickling down her back, forehead pressed against the tile—but everything else was a haze.

A blur of hours blended into one another, stretching endlessly between the moment she left the coworking space and now.

Her phone was off. Had been for two days. She couldn’t bring herself to turn it back on or stomach the idea of seeing Beth’s name flashing across the screen.

At some point, she’d tried to eat—maybe half of a protein bar, maybe a handful of crackers—but the thought of food had made her stomach churn. Everything felt wrong.

She should have called Beth.

She should have called someone.

But she hadn’t.

She couldn’t.

The sound of a key in the lock barely registered. The door swung open, followed by the distinct shuffle of a duffel bag hitting the floor. Jamie flinched as the lights were thrust on, plunging the room into light.