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.

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

pantry

in there every day, cooking up some new concoction or baking

staff put on weight while she was living there because she was always

goodie or

she left, though, it started collecting dust. I’ve hardly used it since I divorced her,

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

she

decisively. “It’s not a good idea. Karl, we talked about

us being there again…”

I know what she was about to say: that the two

Duh. That was kind of the whole

that

I say, trying to sound casual. “I had the guest room all set up

that room? Your own private balcony and an en

moments as recognition flashes

showing it off whenever we had overnight

when she wasn’t

Abby’s words are terse, and she ends the sentence

drink.

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

she murmurs. “What do you really want from

and sad. Just like always, she’s onto

top notch. And before I can say

“Karl, we can’t…”

a sip of my whiskey to

back to the present. “I’m not trying to get anything out of you. I just wanted you

it would be

my

Ouch. Her words sting.

eyes locked in

and bad. What is it that I’m really asking of her? A journey back to

life that’s been so far

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

again.”

won’t lie. It’s tempting,” she finally murmurs. “But right now, it’s a

the very least.”

that washes over me. “Of course. Take all the

be leaving

her whiskey, Abby slides off her stool and puts on her jacket, offering me a

and uncertainty.