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

to donate dishes, and when I lived with Karl,

leftovers.

tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the

been for some time. Probably

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

last to know. Why keep me in the

meeting his. There’s

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

finalists to compete to cater the Alpha

second before his expression smooths over

great,

voice lacks the warmth I had hoped for,

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

instead of catering it.

I p rod, my own words

of

but your tone says otherwise.

I wanted to go to

This whole catering thing sort of ruins

expected this sort of response from him,

was a part of me that hoped that he really has

of making it about

wanted to go

party, Abby. The Alpha party is a big deal. I thought it could be something

mine. “And besides, you promised. Or

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

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

turning away from me for

to go with me.” His voice rises with each word,

the empty kitchen.

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

between us.”

low and strained, like he’s trying

on a string

jump through. And let’s not forget what happened

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

me of how it felt to