Page 71 of Balancing Act (Soulmate #1)

Amanda jumped back with a screech. “Jesus Christ!” Obviously, she was not expecting to see Jamie there, in the dark, in her apartment. “Fuck, Jamie. What the hell?” Amanda held her hand to her chest as her breathing settled and she collected herself.

She could feel Amanda’s eyes on her, but Jamie didn’t look up. Didn’t say anything.

A beat of silence. Then, Amanda’s voice, sharp but with an edge of concern, rang out.

“Where have you been all weekend?”

She still didn’t answer.

“I swear to God, you better have a damn good reason for ghosting everyone.”

Jamie heard footsteps approaching her, quick and purposeful, but she still didn’t move.

“Seriously, Jamie,” Amanda continued, dropping onto the couch beside her. “Beth’s worried. She asked me if I’d heard from you, and you didn’t answer my call. Then Shannon called me this afternoon because you never showed up to your meeting with her.”

Jamie swallowed. The words should have hurt, but she was far past hurting.

“We’ve all been really worried,” Amanda said, when Jamie still didn’t answer, her frustration rolling off her in waves.

“Look, I get needing space from whatever it is you needed space from, but two days? No calls, no texts? No one even knew where the hell you were. This is some serious old Jamie shit. New sparkly Jamie would never.”

Jamie finally lifted her head, her voice hoarse from disuse. “I fucked it up.”

A confused look landed on Amanda’s face as she took Jamie in.

“What?”

Jamie wet her lips, forcing the words out even though they felt like shards of glass in her throat. “Beth. I fucked everything up.”

Amanda frowned, studying her more closely. Her irritation wavered, giving way to her concern. “Jamie, what’s going on?”

Jamie shook her head. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t force the words out of her mouth.

Amanda’s voice dropped. “Did something happen?”

A pause.

Jamie opened her mouth—then closed it. Her hands curled into fists on her lap.

Amanda shifted, angling herself toward Jamie, her concern now outweighing her frustration. “Talk to me.”

Jamie didn’t. She couldn’t.

“Jamie, I’m not playing around. What’s wrong? I come home to find you here, looking like this”—Amanda gestured at her —“and all you can say is that you ‘fucked it up’ with Beth? What the hell happened?”

Suddenly, Jamie pushed off the couch and grabbed her coat from where she’d draped it over the armrest. Everything inside her screamed to shut down again, to disappear, to slip back into the numbness she’d been drowning in. But she knew Amanda. Knew if she stayed, she wouldn’t let it go.

She snatched up her keys.

Amanda stood, stepping in her path. “Jamie, hey. Hey. Where the hell are you going?”

Jamie’s voice was rough, barely above a whisper. “I need to go.”

“Go where?” Amanda’s eyes narrowed. “Beth’s?”

Jamie didn’t answer.

“Jamie—”

“I can’t be here right now.”

Amanda’s jaw tightened. For a second, Jamie thought she might physically block the door.

But then Amanda sighed and stepped aside. “Fine. But call Beth. Now.”

Jamie hesitated.

Amanda crossed her arms. “Jamie.”

Jamie swallowed past the lump in her throat.

She didn’t turn her phone back on.

She just walked out the door.

She pulled into Beth’s driveway a few minutes shy of midnight, the familiar gravel crunching under her tires. The house was dark except for the porch light.

She killed the engine and gripped the steering wheel, breathing through the tightness in her chest. Jamie Lyons doesn’t cry , she reminded herself, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. She was fine. She was going to be fine. She had to get out of the damn car.

Or maybe she should turn around and leave. Turn the key, back out of the driveway, and disappear, like she had before. Be gone out of Beth’s life and spare her from what was inevitably coming.

Her fingers hovered over the ignition, ready to move.

But then?—

The front hall light flicked on.

Jamie froze.

Through the window, she could see Beth standing there—arms crossed, jaw set.

Fuck.

Jamie forced herself to move. She couldn’t run anymore. Didn’t want to run anymore.

Her fingers shook uncontrollably as she walked one foot in front of the other, up the steps, stopping as Beth opened the door.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t move aside to let her in. But the look on her face said everything Jamie had expected.

She had never seen her this angry before. The silence was suffocating.

Beth’s eyes raked over her, sharp and assessing, and Jamie knew she looked like hell—exhausted, hollowed out, barely holding herself together. But Beth didn’t care about that.

Beth let her stand in the cold for one unbearable second before stepping back and letting her inside.

As soon as the door shut, Beth let loose.

“Two days, Jamie.” Her voice was low, controlled but lethal—the kind of anger that didn’t explode but burned slow and deep. “Two fucking days and nothing. No call. No text.”

Jamie’s stomach twisted at the hurt lacing Beth’s words. She didn’t dare speak. She deserved this.

Beth let out a sharp breath, shoving a hand through her hair before gripping the back of her neck like she was holding herself together by sheer force.

“You promised me. You promised Lily.”

Jamie swallowed hard, staring at the floor and trying to make herself as small as possible.

She could feel Beth’s eyes boring into her, waiting for her to explain, waiting for her to fight back, to do something. But she just—couldn’t.

Beth let out an annoyed groan, hands dropping to her hips, then back up to cross her arms like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“You know what’s worse?” she continued, her voice rising.

“I had to lie to her, Jamie. Lily asked if you saw her compete, and I had to stand there and lie to my daughter’s face for you because she thinks you hung the moon and I didn’t want that to change. ”

No. That wasn’t true. Jamie blinked, her mind clawing through the fog, grasping at a half-formed memory. A screen. A score. Lily on the mat. Lily in the air. The notes. The texts.

She had watched Lily’s competition.

A fragmented memory surfaced—Lily’s routine on her phone’s tiny screen, the crowd’s sound muffled through the speakers, her fingers clumsily typing notes, corrections, encouragements.

She hadn’t been there, but she hadn’t let Lily down.

Her eyes shot up—finally—and the second Beth saw her face, her fury broke into something else entirely.

Her expression shifted, eyes widening in realization.

“Jamie. What is it? What’s going on?” All the sharp edges of her voice gone in an instant.

Jamie could feel the tremor in her hands, the way her breath came too fast, too shallow. She’d spent two days running from this, Beth, herself, and everything. And now, standing here, it was all catching up to her at once.

Beth’s gaze dropped to her hands—still shaking—and her brow furrowed in alarm. “Jamie.”

She sucked in a breath, tried to force it down. Tried to be still. Tried to hold herself together.

Beth’s fingers brushed her wrist.

And Jamie shattered.

Her chest caved in. The tears weren’t just falling—they were spilling out of her, hot and unchecked, burning down her cheeks and dripping onto the floor.

She watched through hot tears as Beth’s expression crumpled.

“Jamie.” Her voice was softer this time, gentle and warm, and it made Jamie bristle because she didn’t deserve this. She deserved to be yelled at.

Jamie squeezed her eyes shut. She had no plan, no script, no escape.

And Beth was right here. Seeing everything.

“I—”

But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, her body folded in on itself, her knees buckling, her breath coming in sharp, gasping sobs.

And Beth was there. Catching her. Keeping her upright as Jamie finally fell apart.