Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chapter 104
Abby

The tension in the room feels palpable, a thick curtain of unsaid words and unexplored emotions

hanging in the air between Karl and me. My grip tightens on the knife handle as I glance at the chaos of

ingredients strewn across the counter.

“Tell me first,” I blurt out, wanting to avoid the inevitable confrontation as long as possible. “What are

you doing here? The restaurant closed hours ago.”

Karl sighs and shakes his head, walking past me and over to the line. I watch as he bends down

behind the counter and disappears for a moment, muttering to himself, before he stands back up and

holds something up in the air: his wallet.

“Dropped this earlier,” he says, slipping it into his pocket. “Wanted to come back and make sure it was

here. Now it’s your turn. What are you doing here at…” He glances at his watch. “One o’clock in the

morning?”

I swallow, glancing around at the ingredients and half-cooked dishes all around the kitchen. The sink is

full of empty dishes from failed attempts, the trash can is practically overflowing with said failed

attempts, and the various successful attempts are lined up on the adjacent counter for pictures to keep

in mind for presentation ideas.

“I, um…” I find myself choking up slightly. “I’m just practicing,” I half-lie. “Wanted to test my skills.”

Karl raises an eyebrow. “And waste all these ingredients? You’re not that type of chef.”

I nearly curse out loud. Karl is right; I’ve never been the type to waste ingredients.

Even in the past, when I’ve gone on creative cooking sprees, I would never just throw things away

when the dishes don’t turn out perfectly. There’s a food pantry right down the street that I visit

lived with Karl, the se rvants and guests were always

leftovers.

me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice tinged with

that he’s onto me, and probably has been for some time. Probably since he found

huge here lately, and I’m starting to

to know. Why keep me in the

knife down, my eyes meeting his. There’s no point in

band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my

finalists to compete to

fraction of a second before his expression smooths over into

“That’s great,

I had hoped for, and his smile

can sense what I feared all this time—that he’d prefer that I go to the Alpha

instead of catering it.

sound like you mean it,” I pr od, my own words edged with a surprising bitterness to

I said I’m proud of you,” he retorts,

your tone says otherwise. What’s going

I wanted to

catering thing sort of ruins that,

though I expected this sort of response from

of me that hoped that he really has changed, that he

making it

wanted to go to a

party is a big

eyes locked onto mine. “And besides, you promised.

pounds in my chest. “I didn’t forget,” I say. “But this competition… It

It’s going to be on television and everything. I’m sorry, but I hoped that you would

says, turning away from me for a

wanted to

the empty kitchen.

told you

between us.”

low and strained, like he’s trying to hold himself

you’ve just been keeping me on a string this whole time, giving

not forget what happened the other

of our night right here in this

felt to have him close