7. Nova
Nova
The shrill, rhythmic buzz of my phone alarm cut through the quiet room like a siren.
I blinked against the harsh, brilliant sunlight pouring through the windows, my mind sluggish as it dragged itself out of a deep sleep. The first thing I registered wasn’t the time, or the fact that we had a flight to catch soon. It was the heavy, solid warmth wrapped completely around me.
Jax and I were sprawled on the velvet sofa in the sitting room.
Completely naked. My head was resting right in the crook of his shoulder, my gold silk dress no doubt discarded somewhere, and his arm was locked securely around my waist, pulling me flush against his naked chest. One of his long legs was tangled between mine.
He smelled and felt so good next to me, I cursed my foolish alarm setting.
For a second, I didn’t move. I just listened to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart right beneath my cheek, enjoying the warmth of him, the solid muscles under my cheek.
Everything from the night before—the private lounge, Kit’s hand on my shoulder, and the explosive, desperate heat of Jax’s lips against mine in the elevator—flooded back in a sudden, dizzying rush.
My alarm buzzed again.
Jax stirred this time, his grip tightening instinctively for a fraction of a second before his eyes snapped open. For a beat, he just looked down at me, his blue eyes dark with sleep and something heavy, intense, and unreadable.
Then the shutter slammed down.
“Morning.” I smiled up at him.
“What time is it?” he asked, rubbing his hands over his face.
“I had set my alarm for eight.”
Jax released his hold on me, sat up, and rubbed a hand over his face again. The sudden absence of his warmth left me feeling completely freezing in the air-conditioned suite. He stood up, cleared his throat, and looked everywhere but at my naked body.
God, seeing him completely naked had me wanting again. Could we change flights? I was willing to risk it.
“We need to move if we’re going to make the gate,” he said, his voice flat, gravelly, and entirely stripped of the emotion from last night. Before I could even open my mouth to respond, he turned and disappeared into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.
The heavy thud of his shower running a minute later felt like a slap in the face.
I wanted to throw something at his closed door. Instead, I got up, took my golden gown from the floor, and marched into my room to shower and dress.
We checked out of the hotel in a mechanical haze. I was numb to any emotions. There was so much doubt running through my head, I couldn’t process what was going on.
We rode in the back of the cab to the airport in total quiet, acting like the perfect, synchronized professional team we’d always been. Jax handled the bags; I checked our digital boarding passes. We went through TSA security without exchanging anything more than logistical sentences.
“Do you have the laptop out?”
“Yeah. Do you want a coffee before we board?”
“No, I’m good.”
Sitting in the crowded departure lounge, watching the planes touch down against the backdrop of the morning sun, a familiar, sinking dread settled deep into my stomach.
The panic from the all those years ago returned with a vengeance.
He was doing it again. He was retreating behind the wall.
The kiss in the elevator, the raw confession of his jealousy, the mind- and body-bending sex—he was going to pretend it was just a byproduct of the alcohol, the high stakes, and the pressure of the Onyx contract.
He was going to push me right back into the friendship box.
By the time our zone was called, my chest felt so tight I could barely breathe.
We walked down the jet bridge and boarded the plane in absolute silence, sliding into our first-class seats.
I immediately turned my head toward the window, staring out at the tarmac, blinking back the hot, frustrated tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
I hated myself for being vulnerable, and I hated him for shutting me out.
The plane pushed back from the gate, the engines roaring to life with a low, vibrating hum as we began the slow taxi toward the runway.
I kept my eyes fixed out the window, my hands clenched tightly in my lap, bracing myself for the agonizing flight back to reality.
Suddenly, a warm, broad hand slid over the console between our seats and took mine.
He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at me, and he didn’t offer any excuses. He just reached down, slid his hand firmly in mine, and laced our fingers together, his grip tight and unyielding.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I turned my head to look at him.
Jax was already leaning his head back against the headrest. His eyes were closed, his long lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones.
The tension in his jaw was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, exhausted peace.
He didn’t let go of me. His thumb gave my knuckles one slow, reassuring squeeze, anchoring me to him just like he had on the couch.
A sudden, overwhelming wave of relief washed over me, the tight knot in my chest that had been there for, well, years, unraveling instantly. He wasn’t retreating. He was just tired of fighting it.
I squeezed his hand back, resting my head against my own seat as exhaustion took us both.
The high of Las Vegas had evaporated the moment our wheels hit the tarmac back home.
Now it had been four days since we’d returned. Four days since Jax had held my hand the entire flight back home, his grip a silent promise between us. And for four days, he had been a ghost.
I knew he wasn’t intentionally freezing me out—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
The day after we got back, his father’s health had taken a sharp turn for the worse, throwing Jax into a grueling cycle of hospital visits and medical consultations.
But it felt like he was entirely out of reach.
Then, to my surprise, Jax wasn’t even in the office.
He had flown back to Vegas to handle what he claimed were urgent, hands-on logistics for the Onyx account, leaving me completely in the dark.
He was MIA behind closed doors thousands of miles away, drowning in paperwork, avoiding my text messages instead of my gaze in the hallways.
Then came the Monday morning emergency staff meeting.
When Sofia and I stepped inside the conference room, the space was already packed.
The long mahogany table was surrounded by every employee who was still in town.
Oddly, everyone looked like they were holding their breath.
The nervous energy in the room was palpable.
GSM employed a little under thirty full-time staff members.
There were two accounting personnel, one HR employee, two part-time IT techs, the marketing executives and assistants, and then a few part-time employees who did what Sofia and I had done in high school.
Everyone but Jax was here. I sat next to Sofia and leaned closer to whisper.
“What’s up?”
She shrugged as James walked in with Rick, Jax’s oldest brother, right behind him. I hadn’t heard that he was back in town. This must be serious.
James took his place at the head of the table, looking visibly older, the usual sharp edge of his authority softened by a profound exhaustion.
I was completely in the dark about what was going on. Why hadn’t Jax told me Rick was back in town? Why wasn’t Jax here?
I sat near the back, furious at Jax, staring at his empty chair.
James cleared his throat, commanding the room’s absolute attention.
“Good morning, everyone,” he began, his voice steady despite the fatigue etched into his face.
“Thank you for gathering so quickly. As many of you have heard, I’ve been facing some health challenges recently.
On Friday, my doctor gave me a strict ultimatum regarding my stress levels.
So, effective immediately, I am going to be stepping aside temporarily to take a mandatory medical sabbatical. ”
A collective, quiet gasp rippled through the room. My own worry for James doubled. I’d known he was having problems, but to step aside? For how long?
“But the ship still needs a captain,” James continued, placing a hand on his oldest son’s shoulder.
“Which is why I’ve called in my oldest son to take over the family business.
Everyone, this is Rick. He’ll be acting as your temporary CEO, and he has my and the board’s full authorization to run the place in my absence. ”
My heart sank. That should be Jax. He was the one who had been here while Rick was out in California starting his own business. Jax deserved to run GSM, even if just temporarily.
Rick stepped forward and I was reminded how much the brothers looked like one another. “It’s a pleasure to be here,” he said smoothly. He gave a brief overview of his background, mentioning he had been running his own much-smaller marketing firm in San Diego.
James took over again, wrapping up his speech with a few words of reassurance, though the tired slump of his shoulders told a different story.
“Before I hand the floor completely over to my son,” he added, “I want to emphasize that our immediate priority is landing the Clear Creek Brewery account. Rick will be working directly with the team to seal that deal. Take it away, son.”
I nudged Sofia’s knee. “You’re going to nail that account,” I whispered.
“I hope,” she said, holding onto her folder more tightly.