Page 39 of The Breakup Broker

Thank you, Savvy. I’ll be there.

Inside my apartment, I headed straight for thekitchen and poured a generous glass of wine. The bookstore had been the right choice—quiet but still public. Not like this apartment, filled with personal photographs and morning coffee mugs. Even locked up, Mom’s domain was like neutral ground. The shelves of books stood as sentinels, separating my personal life from whatever Henry was bringing to my door. Sure, the store had its own memories, but they were blurred by years of strangers’ footsteps and the steady rhythm of business.

I took a long sip of wine and buried my face in my free hand. “You’re playing with fire, Honeysucker,” I told myself. “And you know exactly how this ends.”

But as I stood to get ready, the feeling lingered—this time, the flames might just be worth the burn. At least here, surrounded by shelves of other people’s stories, I could keep my walls up.

I set the glass down with a sigh, shaking my head to dispel the memories. This wasn’t the time for nostalgia or second-guessing. My parents’ livelihood was on the line, and if Henry thought he had something important to share, I needed to hear it.

From my perchin the window seat, I saw him. My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched him approach the door. I’d spent countless evenings in this window seat, lost in other people’s stories, but now my past was walking up to the door. I forced myself to wait until he was close before standing, my legs shakier than I wanted to admit.

The lock clicked beneath my fingers, loud in the empty store. As I pulled the door open, the night air rushed in, carrying his scent—sandalwood mingled with somethingunmistakably Henry—hitting me like a wave. Memories surged. The lazy Sundays spent together, stolen kisses within these walls, the safety of his arms around me. My fingers tightened on the edge of the door until they ached.Keep it together, Savvy. You’re not that naive girl anymore.

“Savvy,” he said, his voice low and inviting, and I cursed my traitorous pulse for responding to that familiar drawl.

“Henry,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Let’s get on with it, okay?” A shadow of unease crossed his face, and despite everything, a pang of sympathy tightened in my chest. He’d dragged me into this chaos, but he was also helping me navigate it.

“Okay, then,” he started, his fingers raking through his hair—a gesture I’d forgotten until now. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

I shot him a skeptical look. “I’m here for one reason only—my family.”

Henry’s features hardened into a mix of resolve and understanding. “I understand, but there are matters you should be informed about?—”

“Wait,” I cut him off, hating the slight quiver in my voice that betrayed my tangled emotions. “I don’t need a history lesson or excuses for what transpired years ago. Just explain how this predicament impacts River Bend Books.”

He closed the gap between us by a step, and I steeled myself against the urge to back away from him, from our shared past and the possibility of a complicated future.

“This isn’t as simple as you think,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with quiet intensity. “There’s history here, context you need to understand?—”

“Backstory?” A dry chuckle escaped me, more sarcasm than bite this time. Our tangled history was nothing if not full of it. “Is that what we’re calling our past? Backstory?Quite the term from the man who disappeared without letting me have a say in my story.”

Henry’s jaw tightened, but he pressed on. “My father’s interference in River Bend isn’t new. Your family’s business in the marina and bookstore have been in his sights for years. He’s been methodically working to undermine your family, forcing me to make a choice. Your return gave him the momentum to move forward with his plans.”

I tried to focus on his words, but my mind kept drifting. The familiar cadence of his voice and the way his brow furrowed when he was worried were all achingly familiar.Stop it, Savvy. This isn’t about you and him.

“Mason told me about a board meeting scheduled for tomorrow, and I plan to be there,” Henry announced, his voice laced with an undercurrent of urgency. “I’m certain my father’s planning to use it as a launchpad to exploit River Bend.”

My eyes widened, the sudden revelation momentarily throwing me off balance. “So, this is bigger than the bookstore?”

“Yes,” he said. “I think my father plans to redevelop River Bend completely. If he gets his way, the marina, the main street, everything that gives this town its character—it’ll all be gone. He’ll flatten it, rebuild it into some lifeless corporate vision of progress, and leave nothing of what makes this place special.”

I sat there, stunned into silence. His words pressed down on me, thickening the space between us with an unbearable weight. How could one person carry so much hatred? How could someone be so consumed by greed and power that they’d willingly destroy an entire town? To Richard Kingston, families, livelihoods, and memories were nothing more than collateral damage.

“How does someone become like that?” I murmured, almost to myself. “How do you hate so much that you’re willing to destroy everything in your path to get what you want?”

Henry’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. “It’s not hate, Savvy. It’s control. My father doesn’t see people—he sees obstacles. And he removes them. Whether it’s a business, a community, or…” He trailed off, his expression pained. “Or his own son.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard, and for a moment, I saw the cracks in Henry’s composed exterior. It wasn’t shock or concern I was seeing—it was a deep, personal wound that had never fully healed.

I swallowed hard, my emotions threatening to spiral. “It’s … hard to comprehend,” I said. “Your father’s actions aren’t about profit. They’re personal. He’s tearing this town apart, and for what? To prove he can?”

Henry nodded, his expression grim. “For Richard Kingston, power is everything. If he can crush River Bend, it’ll solidify his legacy as someone unstoppable. He doesn’t care how many lives he destroys in the process.”

A laugh escaped me, though there was no humor in it. “And here I thought my life was complicated enough without adding ‘saving the town’ to my list of responsibilities.”

Henry hesitated. “James has been helping me,” he admitted. “He has connections in the city—inspectors, officials, people my father ignored because they didn’t come with a price tag. He’s made calls. If there’s a way to stop my father, we’ll find it.”

I blinked at the mention of James tugging at a thread of memory. “Yes,” I said, nodding. “My father told me Jamesput a call into the city today. It’s the only reason we’re still open.”

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