Page 72 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Corbin

My phone chimed, waking me from my alcohol-induced dreamless sleep. I slowly lifted off my pillow, my head throbbing from the slight movement.

After the board meeting took its devastating turn, I stormed out of Buescher Enterprises’ offices and into the blistering cold streets of Manhattan. The sharp wind bit at my face, and I welcomed it, letting the chill seep into my bones to match the numbness inside.

I left Andi behind, adding insult to injury to the fact that she chose the wrong person to hitch her wagon to.

I’d lost the position I’d worked my entire life for—and in the process, I’d managed to crush Sophia’s dream, too. The board decided that I wasn’t fit to be CEO and that the Buescher-Jones Publishing branch in Misty Springs must be closed effective immediately.

I walked into a little bar around the block from my apartment and went to work on drowning my sorrows.

My phone died, and I embraced the quiet.

Just me, my problems, and a bottomless supply of liquor.

I stumbled back to my apartment, tossed my phone on the wireless charger, and fell into bed.

I missed shutting the shades, a regrettable mistake at this moment, as the sun barreled into my bedroom—through my eyelids, and right into my sensitive skull.

Prying my eyes open, the sun seared into my brain, and I reached hastily for my phone. I had thirty-two missed calls and ninety-nine text messages.

My phone dinged again .

Make that one hundred text messages.

The latest text preview popped up and my heart sank. It was from Sophia. Just three words.

Please call me.

I groaned and set my phone back down.

I couldn’t call her. What could I possibly say?

As my head throbbed and I reflected on the recent crumbling of my once-promising life, a singular nagging thought pulsed over and over in my skull.

Where the hell was Buzz?

I stood up, gave the room some time to stop spinning, and went to the shower.

I was going to drop in on the bastard, and he was going to give me answers.

***

My shoes pounded on the polished marble floor of the foyer as I walked through my grandparents’ apartment, fueled by visceral anger—and likely a slightly elevated blood alcohol level from the night before.

I paused at the beautiful bouquet of pink peonies on the dark oak entry table. The sight tempered my anger slightly—Gram always liked to keep the peace between Buzz and me.

But I didn’t have time for peace.

I made a beeline for Buzz’s office. Considering he spent ninety percent of his time there, it was a good place to start.

My steps slowed as the muffled sound of music hit my ears.

I approached the closed door of the parlor, a room where Toni and Buzz hosted many a soirée. Where, as a kid, I’d sit outside the door and listen to the muffled sounds of laughter and music, while women dressed in designer cocktail gowns and men in tailored suits flitted in and out.

A room that had sat silent for years, like a museum of the past.

I slowly turned the handle, the hinges groaning as the door opened. The faint smell of cigar smoke still lingered in the walls, preserved in this room with the memories of Gram and Buzz’s youth. The scent and the swelling wave of nostalgia both hit me when I pushed my head inside .

Then I saw him.

Buzz, dressed in his silk pajamas, held tight to Gram in her floor-length nightdress and robe as they slowly spun to Nat King Cole's song "Unforgettable."

It was the middle of the morning on a Friday. His inbox was likely overflowing. There were always at least a dozen meetings on his calendar on any given day—he was undoubtedly missing one right now.

But he was here, in his pajamas, dancing with his wife to a fifties love song in the museum of their youth.

Buzz’s eyes landed on me as I stood frozen in the doorway. My shriveled and dehydrated brain was still trying to make sense of the scene unfolding before me.

A soft hand landed on my shoulder, startling me.

I turned to see Louise’s tear-filled eyes looking into mine. She nodded her head toward the kitchen.

I gave my grandparents one last look before begrudgingly following her.

“What was that in there?” I asked as we walked into the kitchen.

“She’s been slipping a lot lately, Corbin. Today, she thinks it’s their wedding day. She is sad no one showed up, so he’s trying to comfort her.” Louise grabbed a carton of eggs from the fridge. “He hasn’t left her side in weeks.”

I marinated in that statement as Louise quietly worked.

My mind drummed up memories of the life I watched Buzz and Toni Buescher live together: the joy on his face that only showed when she was around, the light she added to his dark, the way she held all the patience in the world, and support for a man who worked tirelessly, who spent more time in the office than at home, and who prioritized work over anniversaries and birthdays.

The door to the kitchen opened, and Buzz walked in. His typical larger-than-life persona shriveled to reveal a broken man clinging to the last moments he had with the love of his life.

“I suppose you want to talk.” His gruff voice tore into my aching skull.

Louise wrapped an egg sandwich in a paper towel and set it in front of me with a cup of coffee, two aspirins, and water.

I downed the little white pills and water, then scooped up the coffee and sandwich before following Buzz to his office .

The room was a chaotic mess. Papers were scattered all over the desk and floor, and file drawers were partially opened. There were empty coffee cups with ring stains and half-smoked cigars heaped in an ashtray.

Louise obviously had not been allowed in here for some time. She would lose her mind if she saw this place.

“What do you want, Corbin?” Buzz asked.

He sat in the leather chair behind his desk, clearing his throat and shuffling some loose papers.

“What do I want?” I asked incredulously.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to answer.

What did I want?

I wanted answers—about where he’d been, why he’d vanished when everything was falling apart, why he’d abandoned the company he’d spent his life building, the empire he’d once expected me to carry on.

But after seeing that moment, the quiet moment between two people who chose each other and built a life together, Andi’s sage wisdom echoed in my head: “You think success is worth shit if there’s no one to come home to?”

What did I want ?

I wanted a life that had nothing to do with boardrooms or power struggles. I wanted to go back to Misty Springs—not as an outsider trying to claw my way back to New York—but as a man who’d found something worth staying for.

I wanted dart leagues at Boomer’s on Tuesday nights, and not just to listen to, but to be a part of the inside jokes.

I wanted to earn a new nickname besides Zoolander .

I wanted quiet mornings, waking up to the smell of Sophia’s flowery scent and the sight of her messy hair spilling over my pillow.

I wanted to spend Sunday afternoons with her curled up on my chest with an unhurried pace that allowed us to stay like that all day if we wanted to.

I wanted a life that didn’t revolve around deals, mergers, or board votes.

I wanted a life that revolved around her.

I wanted Sophia .

“I fucked up.” The words burned like bile as they spilled from my mouth. But they were the truth.

Buzz’s eyebrows lifted in question.

“I… I let Davis.” I ran my good hand through my disheveled hair. “He bested me. We fought, and he won. It’s over. I lost the company. We lost the company.”

Buzz leaned back in his chair, his head tilted to the side, his silent expression urging me to continue.

“The board looks at me and sees my father,” I admitted, the words nearly choking me.

I thought of Sophia and how I didn’t choose her at first. I didn’t tell her how I felt about her. I didn’t lay it all out on the line.

Instead, I acted like the rules didn’t apply and that I wouldn’t get caught toying with both of our fates.

“Maybe I am just like him,” I whispered, defeated.

I lost everything.

Lost my reputation. Lost the job. Lost the girl.

“Your father.” He clicked his tongue between his teeth as he paused. “I made so many mistakes with him.”

I swallowed hard at his admission. If I thought shedding a tear and skipping work was another side of Buzz—him admitting he was wrong proved he was a completely changed man.

“You are not like him, Corbin. He was selfish and reckless. He didn’t care how his actions reflected on him, on me, on you. ”

“Well, I’m certainly nothing like you. You built this company.

” The words started pouring out of me before I could scoop them back in.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to grow up in both of your shadows? To have people wonder which Buescher torch I was going to carry? The constant pressure to be great—or the suffocating fear of being a failure?”

This felt like uncharted territory. Buzz and I never talked about things as trivial as emotions or feelings.

“I know,” Buzz said softly.

He stood up from his chair with a slight groan. “It took me a long time—too long—to realize something.”

He began pacing slightly, his march steady and disciplined, like the soldier he was.

“Life is about the people you love and who love you back. It’s about giving, not taking. It’s something to embrace, to enjoy, not a competition,” he paused, looking at me more deeply. “If I could go back and do it all differently, I would.”

He stopped in front of a framed one-dollar bill, the first one he earned when he opened his publishing company, or so the story goes.

“Publishing was my passion project. It was what started it all. It was your grandmother and I, our love of literature, and our ambition to share stories with the world, together. That’s how it was always supposed to be.

Then money and power took over, and before I knew it, I lost sight of my original plan and the significant things in life, like her, like your father, like you. ”

I stilled for a moment, absorbing his words, the lessons learned after a lifetime of poor decisions.

“It’s all for nothing now. You missed the board meeting. Everything is lost. The company is out of both of our hands.”

“Yes, I’m aware. I do still have friends on the board, so I was informed of the events of yesterday’s pity party,” he said smugly as he continued his slow march. “It’s too bad none of it counts.”

My heart lifted, and my eyes snapped to him. “What do you mean, none of it counts?”

“Well… there are a couple of problems with their little vote. The main being, Buescher Enterprises has no legal control over Buescher-Jones Publishing,” he remarked, pulling a manila envelope from atop one of the filing cabinets and flinging it onto the desk.

I opened it, pulling out a large stack of documents.

Divestiture of Buescher-Jones Publishing

“You… you split the companies?” My jaw felt like it was practically on the floor.

“Turns out, Buescher Enterprises isn’t quite as profitable as Davis may have been led to believe.”

I scanned the documents: P&L statements, asset listings, key clients, patents, trademarks, and other intellectual property, all of which belonged to Buescher-Jones Publishing.

“So you stripped Buescher Enterprises of all of these assets, and now,” I paused as realization set in.

“Let Davis and the board have the shell of what remains. The real company—the company that started all of it has been transferred to you. ”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Ah, he’s here, perfect timing,” Buzz declared as he opened the door to welcome the new arrival.

I turned to see Sullivan standing in the doorway, wearing his trademark mischievous grin.

“Sullivan?” I asked with the same surprised tone I had when he swooped in to rescue me at the Sheriff’s station.

“Who do you think helped me with all this?” Buzz asked, retreating and leaning to rest on his disheveled desk.

“See, I make a great spy, Corby,” Sullivan whispered to me as he stepped inside the office and mussed my hair.

“Sullivan and I have been spending a lot of late nights working on this. It hasn’t been easy prying the two companies apart without anyone noticing. And I’ve been working hard to ensure Davis was as comfortable as possible as we pulled this off. Keep your friends close and all that,” Buzz added.

“We just have a few more loose ends to tie up, and Davis will be stuck holding the bag of an empty company.” Buzz straightened, moving to once again stand before me.

His dark eyes met mine, assertive and dominant, but something new gleamed in them—caring, fatherly.

“Are you in?” he asked.

I nodded, eliciting sly grins from Sullivan and Buzz.

And with that, the three of us got to work.