Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 100: Mushroom Hunting
Abby

The weight of failure feels almost physical, like there’s something sharp and heavy literally lodged in

my chest.

I stare at the computer screen displaying “Truffles Unavailable” in blunt, red letters. I’ve sent countless

emails to suppliers, spent hours scouring online marketplaces, and I’ve even visited local storefronts to

browse their selection, all to no avail.

A part of me wants to give up on the recipe altogether, to throw in the towel and declare the universe

the winner in this sadi stic game it’s been playing with me. I could hope that this recipe won’t be chosen,

or at the very least, that I can read enough about it online to get a good idea as to how to make it.

But another part—perhaps the stubborn or perhaps the hopeful part—won’t let me settle for that. What

if this recipe is chosen for the competition? What if the online recipes just don’t do it justice? I need to

be prepared, and this could be my last shot at turning things around.

I close the laptop with a sigh, my eyes drifting to a framed picture of me and Chloe on a past

mushroom hunting trip. It’s not truffles, but maybe, just maybe, I could find something close, something

that’ll at least help me practice the textures and flavors.

…

“Going somewhere?” The voice slices through my thoughts, and I turn around to see Karl standing at

the doorway, his eyes lingering on my hiking boots and backpack. It’s early in the morning, too early for

anyone but me to be here. And yet there’s Karl, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as my grandmother used

to say.

“That’s none of your business,” I shoot back, my voice carrying a sharper edge than I intended. But

really, the last thing I need right now is more complications, more entanglement with him.

He steps into the room, the door falling shut behind him. “Abby, don’t be like this. I told you that I want

to help.”

I appreciate that, but I don’t need help,” I interject, zipping up my backpack with

since I was

moment, his eyes penetrating, like he’s looking

to find truffles around here,

snap, “but I need to do something, okay? I need to practice and

turning stern, his

you.”

in his eyes, a silent, commanding

dealing with lately. And in that moment, something

way.

myself say. “You

mine, and for a split second, I see something there, a

“Good,” he says, his voice softening. “I’ll

in my office, staring at the empty space he just

just

…

beneath my boots, each step mu

earth.

fine mist hangs in the early morning air, casting the forest in surreal grays and blues.

dream. Or maybe a nightmare, if something were to come out of the

footsteps softly echoing my own. We

ground for any signs of

to a cluster

leaning down to take a closer look.

the reddish-brown caps. “Definitely not

yes, they are edible.”

while, discovering various fungi sca ttered

vivid colors, others more muted but

as I identify them, and the tension

slowly begins to lift.

went mushroom hunting

breaking a prolonged silence. “You had to stop me from picking

a tinge of nostalgia sweeping over me. “You were so excited,

have sauteed it right up

and for a brief moment, the

us, the cool morning air, and nothing else. But

be laughing, not like this, not when I just lost my two

But then, something happens.

a distant shout cuts through the

between the

pulling me