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 always

leftovers.

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

me, and probably has been for some time. Probably

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

know. Why keep me

meeting his. There’s

now. “Okay,

to compete to cater the Alpha

a second before his expression smooths

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

the warmth I had hoped for, and

this time—that he’d prefer

instead of catering it.

p rod, my own words edged with a

of you,” he retorts,

tone says otherwise. What’s

hair. “Look, I

catering thing sort of ruins that, though,

though I expected this sort of response from

that hoped that he really has

instead of making

you wanted to go to

is a big deal. I thought it could

onto mine. “And besides,

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

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

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

wanted to go with me.” His voice rises

the empty kitchen.

‘us’, Karl,” I murmur. “I’ve told you countless times before that it’s not going

between us.”

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

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

to jump through. And let’s not

night right here in this kitchen whirls

felt to have him close