Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 152

We both dip spoons into the sauce, tasting it simultaneously. It’s… alright. The paprika adds an unexpected depth of flavor. But it’s just not what I wanted. None of this is what I wanted. I had really thought for a while that Karl would wind up being my sous chef for the competition, but that had turned out horribly.

“Tastes good to me,” John says gruffly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah. It’s fine,” I half-agree, setting my spoon down.

John lets out another groan. “Fine?”

I nod and meet his annoyed gaze. “Yeah. It’s fine, John.”

That’s when John rips his apron off and tosses it down on the counter. “Whatever, Abby,” he groans. “I’m going home. Goodnight.”

“Wait, John—” I call out as he storms over to the door, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know he’s made up his mind.

“I’ve had enough for one day,” he says, his eyes meeting mine for a moment over his shoulder before he reaches the door. “See you tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

In his wake, I glance around at the chaotic landscape of our practice session—the used utensils, the half-chopped vegetables, the splattered sauce—and my heart sinks.

John has left me with the mess again. I mutter a curse under my breath and start attacking the kitchen with a vengeance, scraping pans and banging dishes into the sink.

As I work, my thoughts drift back to last week, the moment of optimism when I had asked John to join me for this competition.

I can’t reconcile the John from that night at the bar with the man who just walked out on me. And that terrifies me. How can we go on national television like this? How can I trust that we won’t blow up on each other on live TV? We’re supposed to be a team, and yet every day feels like a battle.

I rinse the last dish and place it on the drying rack, my reflection staring back at me in the dim light of the kitchen.

Karl would have never left me like this, I think, and then immediately hate myself for it. I can’t afford to dwell on a past that’s not coming back. Karl chose his path, and now I have to choose mine. But does it include John? Can I trust him to stand beside me when the pressure really mounts?

I let out a sigh as I look around at the mess, half-wondering if I should just go home now and clean up in the morning. But then, suddenly, an all-too-familiar voice cuts through my train of thought.

“Need a hand?”