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

dishes, and when I lived with Karl, the servants

leftovers.

me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the

me, and probably has been for some time. Probably since

“You’ve clearly been up to something huge

last to know. Why keep me

meeting his. There’s no point in avoiding the

now.

of the finalists to compete

a fraction of a second before his expression smooths over into

now. “That’s great, Abby. I’m proud of

something’s off. His voice lacks the warmth I had hoped for, and his

this time—that he’d prefer that I go to the Alpha

instead of catering it.

p rod, my own

I’m proud of you,” he

tone says otherwise. What’s going

his hair. “Look, I wanted to go to the Alpha

This whole catering thing sort of

though I expected this sort of response

of me that hoped that he really has changed, that he would

making it about

because you wanted to

party is a big

mine. “And

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

television and everything. I’m sorry, but I hoped that

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

wanted to go

the empty kitchen.

murmur. “I’ve told you countless times before

between us.”

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

me like you’ve just been keeping me on

to jump through. And let’s not forget what happened the other

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

to have him close