Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 156

Abby

A curse slips out of my mouth as I lurch across my living room. My fingers are clumsy as I fumble with the door handle, but finally, I yank it open. The porch light filters in, revealing Karl, his figure imposing even in the darkness of the street outside.

“What are you doing here?” I’m more tired than angry, and a little too drunk for my own good, leaving my voice harsher than I really intend.

Karl’s eyes scan over me, taking in my haphazard state, before his gaze floats past me and into the equally haphazard state of my apartment. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” he asks. “I’ve been trying to call you. I’m worried.”

I lean against the doorway, partially to hide his view of the mess in my living room but also partially to steady myself. “I didn’t feel like talking tonight,” I say, hoping my tense tone conveys exactly what I want it to: that I need space.

Or do I need space, really?

But Karl doesn’t budge. Instead, he steps forward, brushing past me before I have the chance to stop him. He stands in my entryway, looking around slowly at the half-eaten takeout food, the two wine bottles, and the blooming red stain on the carpet with the discarded towel before he finally turns back to face me.

“Abby, everyone’s been trying to reach you. Don’t shut down on us.”

My eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Well, I haven’t been looking at my phone. I’ve been… busy.”

He folds his arms across his chest and frowns, a look of disappointment crossing his face. “Doing what? Watching old movies and spilling wine?” he probes, with a pointed look at the bottle on the floor.

I cross my own arms as though that will somehow protect me. “Maybe,” I snap. “And so what? It’s my house.”

Karl sighs. There it is again: that defensiveness in my tone. I know I shouldn’t be taking out my failure on Karl, who only ever tried his best to help me win today. But I can’t help it. Right now, I’m angry with the world, and I don’t entirely know why.

“Come on, Abby,” he says quietly. “This isn’t you. You know you can talk to me.”

The softness of his voice creates the tiniest crack in my resolve. My shoulders slump ever so slightly as a breath I didn’t know I was holding finally escapes from my lips. “I just... I needed to be alone after... after everything today,” I admit, the words feeling bitter to my own tongue.

Karl moves closer, the space in the doorway shrinking between us. “You shouldn’t be alone. Not now,” he insists.

I shake my head, a mixture of frustration and a sinking, reluctant gratitude roiling inside of me. “Karl, I appreciate you coming, but I’m not very good company right now.”

“Well, too bad,” he says, a look flashing through his eyes that I can’t quite read. “You’ll just have to be good company anyway.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he holds his phone up, which has been in his hand this whole time.

My heart feels like it stops. On the glowing screen is a mosaic of all of my friends and staff: Leah and Chloe, Daisy, Ethan, John, Anton. It’s a multiway FaceTime call that I didn’t even know was running.

“Your friends want to talk to you,” Karl says, noticing my hesitance. “Should I unmute everyone?”

I pause for a moment, caught between a sense of gratitude for my friends but also a deep sense of embarrassment. I’m standing here in my oversized t-shirt and boxer shorts, my hair is a mess, and my makeup is smudged. I’m drunk, barely standing upright, and my apartment is a disaster. Not only that, but I must look like a deer in headlights right now.

And yet, at the same time, the thought of seeing my friends—of hearing their voices—makes my heart flutter. Maybe this is what I need after what happened today. I slowly nod, meeting Karl’s gaze, and he presses the unmute button on the phone.

“Oh, Abby…” Chloe’s voice is the first to crackle through the speaker. “I’m so sorry we can’t be there. This food poisoning has us all in bed.”

“But we watched the whole show,” Daisy chimes in, her voice hoarse. “You did so well, Abby.”

“I can’t believe you were sabotaged.” John’s voice is stern, even a little angry. “Maybe it’s a good thing I wasn’t there. I would’ve beaten the pulp out of that little shit Daniel. Would’ve gotten myself arrested.”

“Same,” Leah adds. “Trust me, Abby, everyone can tell that he’s a little snake. Just you wait; he’ll get his comeuppance.”

I swallow hard, my raw emotions forming a lump in my throat. “You guys,” I say, my voice wavering more than I would like it to, “you didn’t need to watch all of it. And I lost anyway. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Are you kidding?” Ethan’s voice crackles through, although his face is frozen due to a bad connection. “It does matter, Abby. Everyone was rooting for you. You were a star.”

I glance at Karl, who nods slowly. “Abby, if you had checked your phone, you would know,” he says. “Social media is on fire right now. Hashtags about you are already cropping up: #justiceforabby. People loved you, and they’re pissed.”

Karl’s words send me spiraling. It’s all I can do not to stagger backwards. All I can do is lean my hand on the wall to steady myself, grasping my necklace with my other hand. “R-Really?”

Karl nods, and so does everyone else on the screen. “Yes,” he says. “Abby, this sabotage will come to light. I’m sure of it.”

But I’m shaking my head, not able to believe any of this. “I just… I never wanted this. I never should have competed to begin with.”

“That’s ridiculous and you know it.” Karl’s voice is firm. “Of course you should have competed. You belong in that arena, Abby. And besides,” he adds, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes despite the solemn set of his jaw, “Daniel’s lies will catch up with him. If not now, then later. No one pulls stunts like that and gets away with it; not for long, at least.”

I can’t help the snort that escapes me. Karl’s words should be soothing, but they’re not—because he’s wrong. Men get away with this kind of stuff all of the time, especially when it comes to putting women down for their own gain. What makes Daniel so different?

“Hey, Abby.” Anton’s hoarse voice brings me back to the present moment. He’s been silent this whole time, but he’s been there. “You remember what you always say. ‘A true chef never stops.’ Don’t let this stop you.”

The chorus of agreement from the others brings tears to my eyes. My voice feels caught in my throat as we all say goodbye. When Karl finally ends the call, I feel like I’ve been deflated. The room feels quieter, emptier now, maybe even a little colder. I stumble past Karl and over to my couch, where I sink down and put my head in my hands.

But it’s not long before I hear footsteps approaching, followed by the sound of Karl’s voice.

“Abby,” he says, his voice quieter now than it was before, “do you want some company tonight?”

His eyes wander to the bottles, the half-eaten takeout that’s long since gone cold, the red stain on the carpet that will now likely never come out, then back to me.

“I mean,” he continues, a careful note in his tone, “I could join you tonight. Unless you’d rather—”

“No,” I blurt out, maybe because of the wine or maybe because of the fact that my wolf is churning in the back of my head at Karl’s presence. “You… You can stay.”