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

lived with Karl, the servants and guests

leftovers.

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

me, and probably has been for some time.

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

Why keep me in the

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

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

the finalists to compete to cater

widen for a fraction of a second before his

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

something’s off. His voice lacks the warmth I had hoped for, and his

time—that he’d prefer that

instead of catering it.

you mean it,” I p rod, my own words edged with a

of

says otherwise. What’s

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

whole catering thing sort of

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

that he really has changed, that

making

upset because you wanted to go to

The Alpha party is a big deal.

mine. “And besides, you promised.

didn’t forget,” I

be on television and everything. I’m sorry, but

turning away from me for a moment. “But what

too? I thought you wanted to go with

the empty kitchen.

I murmur. “I’ve told you countless times

between us.”

and strained, like he’s trying to hold himself

been keeping me on a string this whole time, giving me vague

let’s not

his words. The memory of our night right here

felt to have