Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 68: Reconciliation
Abby

The night weighs heavy on me, each mile that separates Karl and me adding to the burden I didn’t

think I’d ever have to bear again. I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, trying to bury

the memories of our argument and the sting of his words. It’s infuriating that he would have the

audacity to be mad about my accomplishment.

He should be thrilled for me.

Shouldn’t he?

…

I wake up the next day with dark clouds lingering in my head, mirroring the ones outside my window. I

head straight to the kitchen to work it all off. When emotions get messy, the kitchen has always been

my sanctuary. But today, even my sanctuary seems to be turning against me.

The day passes by in a blur. Before I know it, the restaurant is empty, the day having been a whirlwind

of rushes and demanding customers. Finally, I find myself alone amidst a storm of spices, ingredients,

and equipment. At least now, in the empty kitchen, I can think.

But the thing is, I’ve attempted this delicate souffle five times now. It keeps collapsing.

“D amn it!” I snap, tossing my whisk into the sink with an unwarranted amount of aggression. My apron

follows, flung across the counter as I grip the edge, my knuckles going white.

This is one of the key dishes I want to practice for the competition. I’ve never had good luck with

souffles, and it seems as though that bad luck is still getting in the way.

My heart is pounding like I’ve run a marathon, and I feel so stu pidly vulnerable standing here, defeated

by eggs and sugar. Tears of frustration are dangerously close, and I hate myself for it.

I can handle a hectic dinner rush, a dysfunctional kitchen, a competition. But to add Karl’s drama onto

it? It’s too much.

“Stop being such a drama queen, Abby,” I chastise myself aloud, rolling my eyes at my own

That’s when I hear it—a soft clearing of a throat. My

into my senses more times than

of the kitchen, his posture stiff and

fill a space even when they’re trying

about him, always has, pulling things toward him whether he means to

that gravity feels like

There’s a lingering moment where

in

Thought you might be here,” he finally says, taking a hesitant step

the kitchen.

Karl?” I ask, my voice laced with more bitterness than I

stance I wish I didn’t

the mess in

the counter like evidence of a culinary crime scene. “I came

sore from how many times I’ve done that

you did,” I murmur, the words coated with a layer

thick.

I almost feel bad. Almost. “Abby,

off, my pent-up emotions spilling over

me? This competition, this opportunity—it’s everything

want to make

not fair.

didn’t mean to do, Karl,” I snap, stepping closer

career, and if you can’t be happy about that, then I don’t know what to

came to talk,” he finally says. “If you don’t want to,

his presence is too overwhelming, too filled with a history I’ve

came to talk? Really? Because last time we talked, you made it abundantly clear

felt about my success.”

am happy for you,

believe it?” I retort, gripping the edge of the counter to keep my hands

the competition would get in the way

down, exhaling slowly like he’s measuring each breath,

right. I said some stuff last night that I

Abby. Way more

sign of insincerity. All I find is a quiet

doesn’t just erase things, Karl. You being angry

don’t have room for that kind of negativity

“I want to be supportive, Abby. I messed up.

make it right.”

support me?” I can’t keep the skepticism

Because those are two very different

closer, closing the gap between us, and I involuntarily hold my breath. “I can’t lie and say