Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 239

Abby

Daniel and I fall silent as Bryan and Mr. Thompson suddenly walk into the room, Daniel’s earlier remarks still ringing in my ears.

But as my eyes flick from Bryan, whose eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, to Mr. Thompson, whose face is somber, I suddenly find myself forgetting all about my argument with Daniel.

“Bryan, are you okay?” I ask, taking a step forward.

He looks up, his eyes full of an emotion that strikes me instantly. Bryan has been the quiet sort throughout this entire competition, focused entirely on his work. But now, he suddenly appears as though his very soul is slipping out from him, like the rug was just ripped from beneath his feet.

“It’s private, Abby—” Mr. Thompson begins, but Bryan cuts him off.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Bryan says. “It’s just… um…” His voice quivers, and there’s a pause before he finally takes a deep breath and speaks. “It’s… It’s my mom,” he whispers, the words catching in his throat. “She passed away. Just now.”

The room tilts a little, my heart dropping to my stomach. The competition, the rivalry, the argument with Daniel—all of it suddenly seems to fade into nothingness.

“Oh, Bryan... I’m so sorry,” I murmur.

He nods. “She wasn’t doing so well, and has been in the hospital for a while. I should have been by her side, but…” He shakes his head now, clearly regretful. “I was here instead.”

“What now, then?” Daniel asks, his posture stiff. I glance over at him, and there’s a glint in his eyes, something telling me that he’s only thinking of himself right now. Empathy isn’t in the cards for him; not today, and maybe not ever.

“I’m dropping out.”

Bryan’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m at a loss for words, my eyes wide, my mouth agape.

Then Mr. Thompson speaks up, his usually jovial demeanor masked by a sense of regret and urgency. “We’re very sorry to see you go, Bryan,” he says gently. “But it’s your choice. Feel free to go; we’ll handle your station.”

“And what about the contest?” Daniel blurts out, that glint in his eyes still apparent.

Mr. Thompson turns, his hands clasped behind his back, a sure sign that he’s about to switch into his professional mode. “The final round will proceed with you two, Abby and Daniel.”

Daniel’s eyes narrow. “But the scores—”

“The scores of the second round will not be taken into account,” Mr. Thompson interrupts, shooting Daniel a warning look. “Regardless of scores, you are now the two remaining finalists.”

There’s a moment where I feel a bitter sense of relief mingled with guilt, the taste more acrid than that of my bitter tiramisu. But I push it aside, focusing instead on Bryan, whose world has just crumbled.

“Bryan…” I start, taking a few steps toward him, my own troubles feeling trivial and small now. “I... If there’s anything—”

But Bryan’s shoulders tremble slightly as I speak, and I can’t just stand here anymore. As if I’m moving on autopilot, I step forward and wrap my arms around him in a hug. It’s awkward, unexpected—especially from me, to him, this man I barely know—but in an odd way, I know he needs this right now.

He stiffens, like he’s just been slapped. But then, after a few moments, he seems to relax. His arms tentatively wrap around my shoulders, hiding me back. There’s a sense of surprise in his embrace, as he was no doubt not expecting a comforting hug from one of his opponents.

We stand here for a few moments, locked in this embrace. The room is silent, and I can feel Daniel’s eyes boring holes into the back of my head—but more than anything, I can feel Bryan’s shoulders tremble, a silent sob quaking his body. And right now, that’s all that matters.