Page 45 of Tough Luck

He didn’t have to say anything. I just stayed right there in the dark, slowly rubbing reassuring circles against his chest, letting him know without a single word that wherever his mind was drifting, and whatever decisions he had to face about his future, he wasn’t going to have to face them alone.

We didn’t really talk about the possibility of him going back to California. I was too afraid to ask him.

Monday morning, the fragile sanctuary of the weekend was stripped away as the real world came crashing back down on us.

Rick returned to work, and on the surface the rhythm of Gold Standard Agency fell back into its relentless routine. The creative team was deep into the asset pipeline for all our current customers, who were worried things would change now that James was no longer there. I was completely submerged in coding the user registry for the Clear Creek Brewery app.

Rick was in and out of his office, taking meetings and reviewing contracts just like before. If you didn’t look closely at the faint shadow of exhaustion under his eyes, you would have thought things were completely back to normal.

Then Tuesday afternoon hit.

Rick had been pulled into a closed-door meeting with his brothers and the family’s legal team at noon. When he walked back into the bullpen a few hours later, I could see the change in him immediately. I was standing by the printer, checking some layout proofs, when he passed by. He didn’t lock eyes with me. His jaw was set in a rigid, impenetrable line, his shoulders squared as if he were bracing for a physical blow.

The warmth that had anchored us over the weekend was entirely gone. He looked completely closed off.

I waited until the hallway cleared, then walked up to his office door, knocking softly before stepping inside. He was staring at a stack of legal documents on his desk, his hands resting flat on the mahogany surface.

“Is everything alright?” I asked softly, crossing the room.

He looked up, and the distant, haunted look in his eyes made my stomach twist. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a lot of paperwork to get through.”

“Jax looked upset,” I said, leaning on the side of his desk.

“He’s pissed. I guess it’s better than sad.” He shrugged. “Listen, I… I think, for now, at least, we should just focus on work.”

My eyes narrowed. I knew what he meant. I could guess the reasoning too.

“Don’t do this,” I murmured, stepping closer. “Let me come to your place tonight. We can order some food, and you can tell me what’s going on. Okay?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping back to the papers, before he let out a long, weary breath. “Yeah. Okay. But come over after six.”

I relaxed, and even though I knew it was probably crossing a new line he’d put down, I leaned down and kissed him until I felt him relax against my lips. “See you tonight.”

When I arrived at his house later that evening, Rick was pacing the living room, a glass of scotch in his hand, his tie already discarded on the sofa. He looked up when I walked in, but he didn’t move to hug me. He didn’t kiss me. The sudden distance felt like a physical slap.

“What happened at the meeting, Rick?” I asked, setting my purse down and keeping my distance by the kitchen island. I’d heard rumors that the board wasn’t happy about us now that James was gone. That worried me, considering how distant he was acting.

He took a slow swallow of his drink, staring out the massive glass windows at the twinkling valley below. “We read my father’s will today,” he said, his voice flat, completely devoid of emotion. “He named me the sole managing partner and majority fifty-percent stakeholder of Mylonas Marketing instead of splitting it three ways. Jax got a quarter, Chris a quarter. But he left the decision about who was going to run the agency to a board vote. And they didn’t chose the one person who deserved it the most, Jax.”

He turned around, looking at me with a heavy, unreadable expression. “They chose me to run GSM. So now I’m in charge of the entire fucking business.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Along with my own in California.”

I blinked, the weight of the revelation hanging in the quiet room. “What does that mean for Jax?” I asked, my heart sinking for the son who had spent years hoping that one day he’d be allowed to take over, even though my heart soared knowing this would mean that Rick would stay in Colorado now.

“It means I have a choice to make, and neither option is good,” he said, running a hand through his hair, his tone growing sharp with frustration. “I either have to sell my entire life’s work—my agency in California, which I built from the ground up—to my partner out there and stay here permanently to run this place. Or I have to legally restructure the corporate charter here, reject the appointment, and try to convince the skeptical board members to let Jax take over, even though my dad explicitly wrote out that he didn’t think Jax was ready for the strain of running it.”

He started pacing again, his mind clearly miles away, completely consumed by the corporate nightmare dropped onto his shoulders.

“And… where does that leave us?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. My throat felt incredibly tight. “Rick, if you accept your father’s terms, you aren’t just temporary CEO anymore. You’re officially the boss of the entire company. You’re really my boss.”

Rick stopped pacing. He looked at me, but his eyes were guarded, wrapped in a cold, professional detachment that I had never seen directed at me before.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice entirely too calm. “Right now, I have to figure out how to keep my family from fracturing, and how to handle the transition of power. I can’t think about anything else right now. I just… I need some space to clear my head.”

The words sliced straight through my chest. He wasn’t just asking for space to think about the company—he was actively pulling away from me, shutting me out of the one place I thought I belonged.

“Space,” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. I swallowed the lump in my throat, refusing to let him see the tears prickling behind my eyes. “Right. Of course.”

I grabbed my purse from the counter. Rick didn’t move to stop me. He didn’t offer to walk me to my car. He just stood there by the window, clutching his glass of scotch, watching the city lights as I turned my back and walked out the front door.