Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 69

Karl

“Watch it, you’re massacring those veggies,” John calls out, glancing over from the stove where he’s sauteeing some garlic and mushrooms.

I chuckle, adjusting my grip on the knife. I’m supposed to be julienning some peppers, but instead I’ve lost my train of thought and accidentally begun dicing them instead. “Yeah, well, they had it coming.”

John grins, shaking his head. “Y’know, you’re not as unfunny and stupid as I thought you were.”

“Could say the same about you,” I reply, gathering the sliced vegetables into a bowl.

Who would’ve thought? John and I, mortal enemies turned reluctant allies. A couple of weeks ago, we could barely stand to be in the same room, but time and circumstances—and angry bosses—have a way of forcing you to reassess your priorities.

“It’s all about collaboration,” John continues, his tone more philosophical than I thought the brute would be capable of. “You can’t make a great dish with just one ingredient. Same with a kitchen. Everyone’s got to pull their weight, contribute their flavor for the bigger picture.”

“You should put that on a plaque or something.”

“And have everyone roll their eyes? Nah, I’ll stick to cooking,” he laughs, adding a splash of white wine to the pan, filling the air with a rich, aromatic scent.

The door to Abby’s office opens, and for a moment, my world narrows. She steps out, her eyes scanning the room as if looking for something—or someone. When her gaze falls on me, my heart leaps in anticipation.

But she averts her eyes, quickening her pace as she walks out of the kitchen.

The atmosphere turns brittle around me. John notices, his eyes narrowing. “Hey, snap out of it! You’re burning the scallops.”

“Sorry,” I mutter.

I refocus on the task at hand, on the sound of the scallops sizzling in the pan, but the weight of last night hangs over me like a dark cloud. We’d argued, voices raised, over her decision to compete in that culinary contest despite our earlier agreement. I’d felt betrayed; she’d felt cornered. And now, this.

The wolf inside me stirs, restless. “You messed up big time,” he says, a growl wrapped in a whisper.

“I know,” I reply, my mind a swirl of regret and confusion. “Trust me. I know.”

As the day winds down, as the kitchen grows quieter, the realization sinks in deeper. Abby isn’t just the co-owner of this restaurant. She’s not just another chef. She’s someone I care deeply about, someone whose dreams and desires should mean as much to me as my own.

And yet, I let my insecurities, my fears, get in the way. I shake my head, frustrated with myself, with the wedge that’s been driven between us.

“I’m heading out. You good here?” John asks, snapping me back to reality.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow,” I say, forcing a smile.

He nods, casting a somewhat concerned glance my way before exiting the kitchen. Alone now, I take off my apron and hang it up. My eyes catch Abby’s office door, still closed, a barrier in more ways than one.

For a moment, I almost knock. But then, I decide that right now, I think I’d rather have a drink.

…

The kitchen is closed, but the bar always stays open for a couple of hours longer. I sit at the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey that tastes a lot like failure. My eyes catch my reflection in the glass, the questions there unanswered, piercing. Should I have reacted the way I did to Abby?

I just wish that she didn’t have to make things so complicated. This isn’t what I planned.

Chloe scoffs, shaking her head as she turns away. “You’ll never make up for it, Karl. Not in Abby’s book, and not in mine. Especially not if you’re going to stomp all over her moment in the spotlight.”

“So what do you suggest?” I ask.

Chloe’s eyes narrow. “I suggest you leave Abby the hell alone. For good.”

Before I can come up with a retort, Chloe storms off. I down the rest of my drink in one go, the burn of the liquor a poor distraction from the knot of guilt tightening in my stomach.

“Damn it,” I mutter, both to myself and to the situation that seems to be spiraling out of control.

My wolf stirs inside me, agitated. “Don’t listen to her.”

Without responding to my wolf I get up, leaving some bills on the counter before heading out. The night air is cold, biting, a reflection of my own thoughts.

“Get back in there,” my wolf says, his annoyance showing through his voice. “Chloe doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.”

I shake my head. “Maybe she does. Maybe this is all pointless, and Abby… I’m just getting in the way.”

As I pass through the alley alongside the restaurant, though, something catches my eye. Through the window, I catch a glimpse of blonde hair—Abby. She’s working in the kitchen again, hunched over something. I can see her brow furrowed from here, and she’s muttering something. Then, pounding her fist on the metal table, she throws her whisk in the sink and starts yanking off her apron.

Seeing her like this pains me. I can’t just leave her like this.

“Check on her,” my wolf urges me, and I find that I can't say no. Not this time.