Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chatper 251

Abby

My apartment is dark when I finally get home tonight. It still smells faintly of

fresh paint from the new coat that my landlord put on, but I can still sense the

lingering scent of smoke, too.

I decide to avoid the harsh glow of the kitchen lights as I plop the wine glass

that’s been tucked under my arm onto the counter island, followed by the bag of

takeout food that I picked up on my way home.

It’s still warm, the grease beginning to seep through the bag as the faint smell of

garlic and onions permeates through the air. On any other night, I might be

delighted to dig in; but honestly, I have no appetite tonight. Even the thought of

Enter title…

food makes me sick after everything, after all of the failed dishes. But I know I

need to eat, and if I don’t, I know I’ll regret it later.

For a moment, I dig through my cupboard for a plate and some silverware, but

eventually decide to opt out of the plate.

The cork gives a subtle pop as I open the wine. No glass, I decide. Not tonight. I

take a swig straight from the bottle, the sharp taste of alcohol momentarily

cutting through the numbness. It’s a start.

I crash onto the couch, the plush cushions a welcome comfort after being on my

feet all day. The TV flickers to life with a soft buzz a moment later, and I navigate

to drown myself in a world away

Hours, maybe. I feel like I’m

movies, cheap wine, and

the disdainful look in Logan’s eyes,

playing in front of me, crowding

movies on the screen.

to myself as I

I was so sure

either; it’s that I was humiliated on live

were swapped, tussles were had, insults

were ignored.

I’ll be a culinary laughingstock. Hell, I

out of my

bear to go there tonight. I

barraged with a chorus of

just want to hide my head in the

some point, the bottle of wine

enough proof. Groaning, I push

shuffle into the kitchen, where another bottle waits

too, and make my

in the doorway with the second

on the TV, that I hear it: my

of

going to wallow in misery, or are

forward?”

slap to the face, or a rush of cold wind

It takes me completely by surprise in

my grasp, wine splashing onto the

curse out loud and nearly fall onto the tile floor as

into the kitchen

have warned me,” I say out loud as I grab the towel off

to my knees and dabbing it into the carpet before the

I’ve spilt

main concern, Abby?” My wolf’s voice is

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