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

lived with Karl, the servants and guests were always

leftovers.

Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice tinged with impatience.

has been for

huge here lately, and I’m

know. Why keep me

down, my eyes meeting his. There’s

the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my hands

of the finalists to compete to cater

widen for a fraction of a second before his expression smooths

“That’s great, Abby. I’m proud

the warmth I had hoped for,

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

instead of catering it.

I p rod,

proud of you,”

but your tone says

hand through his hair. “Look, I wanted to

thing sort of ruins that, though,

though I expected this sort of

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

making it

to

not just any party, Abby. The Alpha party is a big deal. I thought it could be

mine. “And besides, you promised. Or did you

I say.

It’s going to be on television and everything. I’m sorry, but I hoped that you would

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

thought you wanted to go with me.”

the empty kitchen.

‘us’, Karl,” I murmur. “I’ve told you countless times

between us.”

low and strained, like

on a string this whole time,

jump through. And let’s not forget

memory of our night

how it felt to have