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 Karl, the servants and guests were

leftovers.

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

been

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

last to know. Why keep me

eyes meeting his. There’s no point in avoiding

I might as well rip off the band-aid now. “Okay,

of the finalists to compete to cater the Alpha

a second before his expression smooths over

“That’s great, Abby. I’m proud of

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

time—that he’d prefer that I go

instead of catering it.

I p rod, my own words edged with a

said I’m proud of you,” he

says otherwise.

his hair. “Look, I

sort of

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

was a part of me that hoped that he really has

of making

wanted to go

is a big deal. I

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

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

everything.

from me for

you too? I thought you wanted to go

the empty kitchen.

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

between us.”

you, though?” His voice is low and strained,

just been keeping me on a

And let’s not forget

wince at his words. The memory of our night

it felt to