Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 67: Crossroads
Abby

The tension in the room feels palpable, a thick curtain of unsaid words and unexplored emotions

hanging in the air between Karl and me. My grip tightens on the knife handle as I glance at the chaos of

ingredients strewn across the counter.

“Tell me first,” I blurt out, wanting to avoid the inevitable confrontation as long as possible. “What are

you doing here? The restaurant closed hours ago.”

Karl sighs and shakes his head, walking past me and over to the line. I watch as he bends down

behind the counter and disappears for a moment, muttering to himself, before he stands back up and

holds something up in the air: his wallet.

“Dropped this earlier,” he says, slipping it into his pocket. “Wanted to come back and make sure it was

here. Now it’s your turn. What are you doing here at…” He glances at his watch. “One o’clock in the

morning?”

I swallow, glancing around at the ingredients and half-cooked dishes all around the kitchen. The sink is

full of empty dishes from failed attempts, the trash can is practically overflowing with said failed

attempts, and the various successful attempts are lined up on the adjacent counter for pictures to keep

in mind for presentation ideas.

“I, um…” I find myself choking up slightly. “I’m just practicing,” I half-lie. “Wanted to test my skills.”

Karl raises an eyebrow. “And waste all these ingredients? You’re not that type of chef.”

I nearly curse out loud. Karl is right; I’ve never been the type to waste ingredients.

Even in the past, when I’ve gone on creative cooking sprees, I would never just throw things away

when the dishes don’t turn out perfectly. There’s a food pantry right down the street that I visit

I lived with Karl, the servants and guests were always

leftovers.

as well tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice tinged with impatience. I

he’s onto me, and probably has been for some time. Probably

up to something huge here lately, and I’m starting to

Why keep me in the

my eyes meeting his. There’s no point

I might as well rip off the band-aid now. “Okay,

the finalists to compete to cater

a fraction of a second before

great,

lacks the warmth I had hoped for, and his

what I feared all this time—that he’d prefer

instead of catering it.

I p rod, my own words edged with a surprising bitterness to

I said I’m proud of you,” he retorts,

tone says otherwise. What’s

“Look, I wanted to go to the Alpha

This whole catering thing sort of ruins that, though, doesn’t

reason, even though I expected this sort of response from him, I’m still taken aback.

was a part of me that hoped that he really has changed, that he would be genuinely happy

instead of making it

wanted to go to a

Alpha party is a big deal. I thought

locked onto mine. “And besides, you promised. Or

didn’t forget,” I say. “But this competition… It

It’s going to be on television and everything.

I understand,” he says, turning away from me for a

something to you too? I thought you wanted to go with me.” His

the empty kitchen.

told you countless times before that it’s not

between us.”

voice is low and strained, like he’s trying to hold

like you’ve just been keeping me on a string this whole

jump through. And let’s not forget what happened

wince at his words. The memory of our night right here in this kitchen whirls

it felt to