Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 120

We weave through the streets, the bright signs of late-night diners and convenience stores flashing by in a blur. For a moment, the weight of my job—the critics, the health inspectors, the constantly ringing phone—lifts, and I find myself lost in the rhythmic hum of the car’s engine.

Karl finally breaks the silence. “You looked like you were having one hell of a dream back there. Was it about a beach, a tropical drink, and a server shortage all at once?”

I chuckle. “More like a health inspection nightmare. I can’t seem to escape the restaurant, even in my sleep.”

He glances over at me with a smirk. “Well, dreams are just unpaid labor then, aren’t they? Surely you could get compensation somehow.”

“Exactly. My subconscious is working overtime,” I reply, my words tinged with a fatigue I can’t hide.

We reach the front of my apartment complex—a red brick building with ivy crawling up the sides and a tall set of steps leading to the front door. It’s surrounded by other buildings that look just like it. I remember when I first moved here, I almost walked into someone else’s apartment. That was embarrassing.

Karl pulls up to the curb and turns off the engine, then looks at me, his eyes searching my face. “Abby, are you sure you don’t need a vacation? My offer still stands. Remember the pool and the hot tub?”

I look away. Of course I remember the pool and the hot tub, and all of the luxuries of our old home. But it doesn’t mean that I think I should go back.

“And,” he leans in a little, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone, “I could take you to some of those places you used to love. Remember the little cafe with the perfect cappuccinos? Or that park where we used to hang out?”

I feel a nostalgic tug at my heart. Karl’s words paint a vivid picture, transporting me momentarily back to those carefree days when life felt easier, lighter. But then the logical side of my brain kicks back in, reminding me of the bad times: of fights, slammed doors, secrets.

“Thanks for the offer,” I say, still looking out the window. “But I can’t. You know that.”