Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 69: Serving Judgments
Karl

“Watch it, you’re massacring those veggies,” John calls out, glancing over from the stove where he’s

sauteeing some garlic and mushrooms.

I chuckle, adjusting my grip on the knife. I’m supposed to be julienning some peppers, but instead I’ve

lost my train of thought and accidentally begun dicing them instead. “Yeah, well, they had it coming.”

John grins, shaking his head. “Y’know, you’re not as unfunny and st upid as I thought you were.”

“Could say the same about you,” I reply, gathering the sliced vegetables into a bowl.

Who would’ve thought? John and I, mortal enemies turned reluctant allies. A couple of weeks ago, we

could barely stand to be in the same room, but time and circumstances—and angry bosses—have a

way of forcing you to reassess your priorities.

“It’s all about collaboration,” John continues, his tone more philosophical than I thought the brute would

be capable of. “You can’t make a great dish with just one ingredient. Same with a kitchen. Everyone’s

got to pull their weight, contribute their flavor for the bigger picture.”

“You should put that on a plaque or something.”

“And have everyone roll their eyes? Nah, I’ll stick to cooking,” he laughs, adding a splash of white wine

to the pan, filling the air with a rich, aromatic scent.

The door to Abby’s office opens, and for a moment, my world narrows. She steps out, her eyes

scanning the room as if looking for something—or someone. When her gaze falls on me, my heart

leaps in anticipation.

But she averts her eyes, quickening her pace as she walks out of the kitchen.

The atmosphere turns brittle around me. John notices, his eyes narrowing. “Hey, snap out of it! You’re

burning the scallops.”

“Sorry,” I mutter.

I refocus on the task at hand, on the sound of the scallops sizzling in the pan, but the weight of last

hangs over me like a dark cloud. We’d argued, voices raised, over her decision to

I’d felt betrayed; she’d felt

big time,” he says,

a swirl of regret

winds down, as the kitchen grows quieter, the realization sinks in deeper. Abby isn’t just

another chef.

should mean as much to me as

my fears, get in the way. I

that’s been

good here?” John

I say, forcing

my way before exiting the kitchen. Alone now, I

and hang it up. My eyes catch Abby’s office door, still

one.

almost knock. But then, I decide that right now, I

…

open for a couple of hours longer.

a glass of whiskey that tastes a lot like failure. My eyes

I have reacted the

didn’t have to make things so complicated.

my wolf murmurs, his voice a gravelly echo in my

proud. Not territorial.”

whiskey in its glass. “She knew how much that party meant to

—”

much this competition means to her,” my wolf retorts. “If

support. Show that you care. And

defensively, but

thoughts and

cue, Chloe, one of the bartenders, walks over to refill my

she feels for me into

down the glass harder than I mean to. “You’re

now instead

I can manage both,” she snaps, her

eyebrows shoot up, surprise mingling with a touch of indignation. “I’m missing

aren’t I?”

Oh, you mean like how you missed being supportive of Abby

voice drips

So she knows.

everything, Karl. I know what went down last

put her through, you’ve got the nerve to get angry about

like I’ve been slapped. Chloe has always been direct,

for right now. For a moment, I