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

and when I lived with

leftovers.

might as well tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice

probably has been for some time.

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

to know. Why keep

knife down, my eyes meeting his.

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

finalists to compete to cater

a second before his expression smooths over into something

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

His voice lacks the warmth I had hoped for,

he’d prefer that I go to the Alpha party

instead of catering it.

I p rod, my own words

I’m proud of

says otherwise. What’s going

through his hair. “Look, I wanted to go to

thing sort of ruins that, though, doesn’t

I expected this sort of response from

that he really has changed, that

making it

you wanted to go to

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

his eyes locked onto mine. “And besides, you

pounds in my chest. “I didn’t forget,” I say. “But this competition… It could

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

says, turning away from me for a moment. “But what about

I thought you wanted to go with me.” His voice rises with each word,

the empty kitchen.

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

between us.”

though?” His voice is low and strained, like he’s trying to hold himself

to me 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

to