Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chapter 80

#Chapter 80: New Horizons
Karl

The sun is barely hovering above the horizon as I pull up in front of Abby’s apartment building on

Friday morning.

I can’t help but smile as I think about the day ahead of us. My black car idles, the hum of its engine

drowned out by the pop song playing on the radio—a song I can easily imagine Abby singing along to,

although I don’t personally care for that kind of music myself.

With a deep breath, I turn off the engine and grab the to-go cup of her favorite coffee from the cup

holder.

She opens the door almost as soon as I knock, as though she was standing there, waiting. There’s a

look in her eyes that makes it seem as though she’s still on the fence about going. But the second her

eyes meet mine, the tension in her shoulders eases. Just a bit.

“Good morning,” I greet, handing her the coffee. “Figured you could use this.”

She grins, taking a sip immediately. “You read my mind.”

There’s a slight silence for a few moments. My eyes scan the inside of her apartment, where a bag sits

on the floor behind her; it’s packed haphazardly, no doubt. She’s never been the neatest traveler.

“Oh, one more thing,” she says before I can say anything. She slips her phone out of her pocket and

begins tapping furiously on the screen while her coffee cup balances precariously in the crook of her

elbow. “I have to tell Ethan—”

“Ethan will be fine without you,” I say, sn atching both the phone and the coffee cup away. “And so will

the restaurant. Just enjoy your time off, Abby.”

She glares at me for a moment, that signature stare of hers, but finally relaxes and lets out a deep sigh.

“You’re right.”

We hit the road within a few minutes. The morning sun streams through the windows, casting her face

in a warm amber glow. I plug in my phone and shuffle through a playlist I know she’ll love.

“So, long drive ahead. Music?”

“Surprise me,” she says, her fingers nervously tapping on the coffee cup.

I hit play, and the first chords of a nostalgic song—one that played at our wedding—fill the car. She

laughs, shaking her head. “Seriously?”

“Come on, it’s a classic,” I defend, bobbing my head to the beat.

Abby’s lips twitch upwards into a smile, but it quickly fades. I watch from my peripherals as she averts

her coffee cup.

the song, ever so slightly. And

riding in comfortable silence for about half an hour when Abby suddenly points to a

off the main

that place?”

the direction she’s pointing, spotting the

I say, a smile forming

than once.”

on a more nostalgic tone. “You proposed to me there, didn’t

“Your memory is betraying you. I

city. What was it called—La

“Karl, you’ve got it

near the fireplace where we

leaving space where our memories belong. The fireplace

I try not to think about it, because if

car off the road.

to do near that fireplace, but no, Abby, I proposed at

us out for disturbing

and forth like this, both of us stubbornly

of simpler times. I’m

of our mutual friends to settle the argument when Abby’s eyes widen,

idiots,”

I ask, genuinely

wiping a tear from the

“The lighthouse?”

says, shooting me a sideways glance. “The one

restaurant attached?”

like a bolt of lightning, and I burst into

How could I

you proposed

then we

in her voice, a glimmer of something

for the briefest of moments, and it’s as

those days, miss what we were. The regret hits me like a ton

for too long, lurking in

to acknowledge it.

another hour and a half of driving, the towering trees give way

in a few months now, but it feels

Abby beside me.

I don’t see any glimmer

be,” she says, though I catch a

pull into the driveway, the old mansion coming into view.

for as long

lights up when he sees me. “Mr. Karl!” he exclaims, shuffling

his

Abby? What are you doing here?” he asks, a

words.

her tone neutral. “I’m

mutters, and though he says nothing more,

problem with Abby being here, that’s his issue

with, not ours.

“I got

shoots up my arm, and I have

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