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

leftovers.

breaks

probably has been for some time.

Chloe. “You’ve clearly been up to something huge here lately, and I’m

know. Why keep me in

I put the knife down, my eyes meeting his. There’s

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

finalists to compete

a second

right now. “That’s great,

something’s off. His voice lacks the warmth I had

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

instead of catering it.

p rod, my own words edged with a

proud of you,” he retorts, clearly irritated

but your tone says otherwise. What’s going on,

hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I wanted to go to

date. This whole catering thing sort

even though I expected this sort of response

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

making it about

wanted to go to a party?

not just any party, Abby. The Alpha party is a big deal. I

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

forget,” I say. “But

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

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

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

the empty kitchen.

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

between us.”

is low and strained, like he’s trying to

me on a string this whole time, giving

not

memory of our night

it felt to have him