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

drown myself in

how much time passes. Hours, maybe. I

of cheap movies, cheap wine, and even cheaper

dish, the disdainful look in

kiss with Karl—keep playing in

movies on the screen.

I whisper to myself as I

especially when I was so sure that

that I lost, either; it’s that I was humiliated on

had, insults

were ignored.

laughingstock. Hell, I might even

out of my

couldn’t bear to go there tonight. I can’t even bear to glance

I’ll be barraged with a chorus

now, I just want to hide my head

wine

proof. Groaning, I push my way

and shuffle into the kitchen, where another bottle

too, and make my way

as I’m standing in the doorway with the second wine

I hear it: my wolf’s voice, clear

of

misery, or are

forward?”

like a slap to the face, or a rush of

me completely by surprise

my grasp, wine splashing onto the carpet—a

out loud and nearly fall onto the tile

kitchen for

have warned me,” I say out loud as I grab

knees and dabbing it

I’ve spilt

main concern, Abby?”

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