Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 75: Come Home
Karl

Abby’s face looks apprehensive, which was exactly what I feared.

When my secretary called me last week to come home for a pack meeting, my original plan was to slip

back home on the day of the meeting and come back to the city without uttering a word. I wanted to just

get my duties over with and return to my task of trying to win Abby back, but plans have changed.

After everything that’s happened recently, I want her by my side. And although I won’t admit it, in a

selfish way, I want her to see our old home and remember what we had together. Maybe then we can

move things forward.

“Well?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. “Tell me. What’s the catch?”

I pause, choosing my words carefully. “I have to go back to my pack this weekend for a meeting. It’s

family stuff, council discussions, you know. The usual.” I hesitate, reading her face, which now shows a

mix of curiosity and guardedness.

“And…?”

“And… I’d like you to come with me.”

The sudden stillness in her eyes, the subtle twitch of her lips, tells me this isn’t what she expected.

“Karl, you know I have responsibilities here, right? There’s the restaurant first and foremost, and

beyond that, I have to practice for the cook-off.”

“Yeah, I know. But look, it’s a weekend. We’d be back first thing Sunday morning. The restaurant can

manage without you for two days, and as for the cook-off…” I grin, trying to channel some semblance

of charm into my plea, “you can practice in my kitchen. I’ve got it all set up—really, anything you’d

need.”

Her eyes narrow, but not dismissively. She’s considering it, I can tell. I can still remember how much

she loved our old kitchen; she was the one who designed it, after all.

chef’s paradise, complete with two ovens, an industrial grade dishwasher, a huge

entire pantry full of

day, cooking up some

my staff put on weight while she was living

some goodie or

though, it started collecting dust. I’ve hardly used it since I divorced her, but it’s still

more or less. And recently, I’ve had the place prepared

in case she decides to

shaking her head decisively. “It’s not a

us being there again…”

but I know what she was about to say: that the two of us being there again

things even more complicated than they already are. Duh. That was

reveal that to

had the guest

that room? Your own private balcony and an

pauses for a few moments as recognition flashes through her eyes. The guest

loved showing it

fight or when she wasn’t feeling well, she

up.” Abby’s words are terse, and she ends

drink.

by her intuition, I chuckle, still trying to sound casual. “Okay.

“What do you really

leave me feeling oddly empty and sad.

I can say anything, she shakes

“Karl, we can’t…”

about it,” I interrupt, taking a sip of my whiskey to steady

trying to get

Thought it would

not my

Ouch. Her words sting.

our eyes locked in a sort of silent

bad. What is it that I’m really

chance to share a part of my life that’s been so far from

perhaps it’s more selfish than that—a desire to show her off to my pack, to say, “Look,

again.”

I won’t lie. It’s tempting,” she finally murmurs. “But right now, it’s a big ask. Let me sleep

the very least.”

of disappointment that washes over me. “Of course.

be

a last sip of her whiskey, Abby slides off her stool and puts on her

equal parts warmth and uncertainty.