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

with Karl, the servants and guests

leftovers.

finally breaks the

been for some time. Probably since he

something huge here lately, and I’m

to know. Why keep me in

put the knife down, my eyes meeting his. There’s no point in avoiding the inevitable

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

the finalists to compete to cater the Alpha

a second before his expression smooths over into something I

right now. “That’s great, Abby.

lacks the warmth I had hoped for, and his smile isn’t

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

instead of catering it.

p rod, my own words edged with a surprising bitterness to

said I’m proud of you,”

your tone says otherwise. What’s going

a hand through his hair. “Look, I wanted to go to the Alpha party

sort of ruins that, though,

of response from him,

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

making it about

upset because you wanted to

a big deal. I thought it could

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

chest. “I didn’t forget,” I

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

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

you too? I thought you wanted to go with

the empty kitchen.

‘us’, Karl,” I murmur. “I’ve told

between us.”

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

you’ve just been keeping me on a string this whole time,

not

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

how it felt to have