Page 43 of Tough Luck

“Let me drive you home,” I murmured, my voice rough and low as I reached for my keys on the counter where she had put them.

She instantly stepped into my space, her hands coming up to rest against my chest, her dark eyes looking up at me with fierce resistance. “Absolutely not. Look at you. You are in no condition to drive right now.”

I placed my hands over hers, squeezing gently, trying to inject some reassurance into my tone even though my chest felt completely hollow. “I’m going to hang here for tonight. To be here for my mom, Jax, and Chris. We’re going to stay here, pour a drink, and just… be together. We need to talk through some things before tomorrow hits us.” I offered her a small, weak attempt at a reassuring smile. “I promise you, I’m okay.”

She stared at me, clearly torn, her protective instincts warring with the understanding that my brothers and I needed this sacred, uninterrupted time with each other to process losing our anchor.

“I’ll take her home in Jax’s truck.” Nova’s voice cut in softly from across the room as she motioned toward Jax.

He nodded and handed her the keys. “Thanks,” he said softly.

“Sure thing,” she said as a look passed between them, then she hugged him quickly and motioned for Sofia.

Sofia looked back at me, searching my face one last time. Seeing the quiet finality in my eyes, she finally relented with a soft sigh. “Okay,” she whispered. “But you call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time it is.”

“I will,” I promised.

She leaned up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pulled me down into a deep, fierce hug that felt like the only warm thing in the entire world. She kissed my cheek, lingered for a fraction of a second, and then stepped back. After giving Jax and Chris quiet goodbyes, she followed Nova out the front door into the crisp mountain air.

The click of the lock echoing through the grand entryway signaled the true beginning of the long night ahead. I walked over to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of my dad’s favorite scotch and four glasses, and walked back to the hearth where my brothers were waiting.

“To Dad,” I said after pouring three fingers into each glass and handing one to each of my brothers. I set the fourth on the hearth for our dad.

“To Dad,” they agreed, and we drank.

Chapter 18

Sofia

The days following James Mylonas’s death had passed in a heavy, disorienting fog.

The morning after his death, an agency-wide email went out announcing that Gold Standard was shutting its doors that following Monday.

When we returned to work Tuesday morning, the atmosphere in the building was somber, the usual competitive chatter replaced by quiet whispers and an underlying anxiety about the future of the firm. A formal invitation had been circulated to the entire staff: everyone was welcome to attend the funeral services that following Friday.

Throughout it all, Rick was completely missing in action.

I tried to give him the space he needed to be with his mother and brothers, but the silence was agonizing. I sent him a few text messages over those long days, keeping them simple, just letting him know I was there. He always replied, but his texts were short, hollowed out by grief, though he still managed to be kind.

The brief words did little to soothe the knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach. I knew how Rick carried the world on his shoulders, and I worried he was neglecting himself entirely to hold his family together.

That next Friday, the church was packed to the doors with friends and family and the entire staff of Gold Standard. My eyes immediately locked onto Rick. Standing with Jax and Chris in the front pew, he looked completely pale. His sharp jawline was tightly set, as if he were trying to keep from fracturing out loud. There was a lost, distant look in his blue eyes that broke my heart.

But the moment I stepped up beside him before the service began, he reached out and slid his fingers into mine. His hand was cool, but his grip was fiercely tight, as if he was trying to anchor himself to me. He held my hand all the way through the somber eulogies, the heavy organ music, and the final prayers, not letting go for even a second.

After the formal services concluded, the crowd began to disperse, but a select group of close friends and family were invited back up the mountain.

Nova and I drove up together, following the slow procession of vehicles back to the stone-and-timber mansion overlooking the valley. The grand house had been transformed for the funeral reception. The expansive kitchen and dining spaces were filled with high-end catered food and a fully stocked bar.

As guests began to filter onto the back deck and into the great room, murmuring their condolences, I stood near the edge of the kitchen, watching the room. My mother’s voice echoed in my head about how to handle grief, but my eyes were strictly on Rick. He was standing near the double-sided stone fireplace, dressed in his dark suit, listening to an older gentleman talk.

Nova stepped up beside me, holding two small plates of catered finger food. She handed one to me, her eyes drifting toward the sofa where Jax was sitting, looking completely exhausted.

“How are you holding up?” Nova asked softly, her usual sharp demeanor softened by the gravity of the room.

“I’m okay,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on Rick as he politely nodded to the executive before him. “You?”

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said, setting her untouched plate down. “James was…” She tilted her head as if searching for the right words. “He was like a really cool uncle who showed me everything I needed to know about marketing.”