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

leftovers.

as well tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks

and probably has been for some time. Probably since he found me

clearly been up to something huge here lately, and

to know. Why keep me

down, my eyes meeting his. There’s no

well rip off the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my

of the finalists to compete to cater the

for a fraction of a second before his expression smooths over into something I

right now. “That’s great, Abby.

had hoped for, and his smile isn’t

I can sense what I feared all this time—that he’d prefer that I go to

instead of catering it.

I p rod, my own words edged with a surprising

of you,” he retorts,

your tone says otherwise. What’s going

running a hand through his hair. “Look, I

This whole catering thing sort

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

me that hoped that he really has changed, that he would be genuinely happy for

making it about

upset because you wanted to go to a

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

back, his eyes locked onto mine. “And besides, you

didn’t forget,” I say. “But this

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

from me for a moment. “But

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

the empty kitchen.

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

between us.”

voice is low and strained, like he’s trying

you’ve just been keeping me on

jump through. And let’s not

of our night right here

me of how it felt to have him close like that