Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 180

Abby

Logan’s smirk unsettles me. It feels as though he somehow has the upper hand in a game I didn’t even know we were playing.

“I don’t understand, Logan. What are you talking about?” My voice is steady, but inside, I feel anything but.

Logan leans against the door frame, casual as ever. “Ken didn’t tell you?” He raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I thought after our chat on the day of the cook-off, he would fill you in.”

“Fill me in on what, exactly?” I press, my heart pounding. Karl had mentioned a ‘misconception’ that day, that he had tried to change Logan’s mind but couldn’t, but that was as much as I knew.

And yet, the way Logan is looking at me, like he’s got a secret that he isn’t telling, is downright infuriating.

He shrugs, the smirk still there. “It’s not my place. But, Abby, you should probably have a conversation with your ‘sous chef.’ I’m not one to repeat myself.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and walks back to the dining room to join the chatting group with his glass of wine, leaving me alone with nothing but a steaming coffee pot and a mind racing with questions.

What did Karl say to him? What could have really been said between them? Is there something that Karl isn’t telling me?

I reach for the coffee pot, my hands trembling slightly. The dark liquid pours into the cups, but I’m not really paying attention. My mind is stuck on Logan’s words, on the implications of what he said. There’s more to this story. There has to be.

Suddenly, thanks to my distraction, the coffee cup overflows and dark coffee spills out onto the granite countertop.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, quickly grabbing a cloth to mop up the mess. I can’t afford to be clumsy right now, not when there’s so much at stake.

Karl and the judges continue to chat away in the other room. I can hear the sound of Karl’s laugh, his lilted voice as he tells some story or another. But I feel so far away, even as I mop up the spilt coffee.

What did they say to each other, really? And if it was important, then why would Karl keep it from me… especially after we promised that there would be no more secrets following the incident with Adam?

Once the mess is cleaned up, I place the cups and a little pitcher of creamer on a tray, my movements robotic as I try to piece together the puzzle. It just doesn’t make sense. Karl wouldn’t keep something important from me, right?

No, not when my career is on the line. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

But Logan’s insinuations, the way he said I should get the truth from Karl… it hints at something more, something that’s not quite right. A niggling doubt starts to worm its way into my thoughts, and I hate it. I hate the uncertainty, the suspicion that’s now clouding my judgment.

The coffee’s aroma somehow manages to bring me back to reality as I carry the tray back to the living area.

Karl and the judges have moved from the dining table to the sitting area, where Karl is entertaining them with more jokes and stories. They’re still calling him ‘Ken,’ a pseudonym that once felt necessary but now feels like another layer to the secret.

“Everything okay, Abby?” Vanessa asks, her eyes kind but inquisitive as I approach.

I force a smile, setting the tray down. “Yes, everything’s fine. Just a little spill in the kitchen.” It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the full truth either.

“Ah, the joys of being a chef,” Xavier jokes, accepting his cup with a grateful nod.

I nod in agreement, playing along, but Logan’s eyes meet mine across the room. There’s a flicker of something there. It’s as if he knows that something is off.

My smile wavers as I turn away, my mind still on Logan’s words. Hasn’t your sous chef told you? The question echoes in my mind, over and over, like a broken record on repeat.

As I busy myself with doling out the coffee, my eyes keep flicking to Karl. He’s listening to a story of Vanessa’s, laughing at something she’s said, and he looks up, catching my eye.

He smiles, but I don’t smile back. Not this time.

Because now I need to know. What really happened between him and Logan? And if it’s so important, why didn’t he tell me?

But this isn’t the time or the place. Not with the judges here, not with the evening still going on. I’ll have to wait, to put on a brave face and play the perfect hostess until they leave.

…

“Well, Abby,” Vanessa says, her coat in hand, “tonight was lovely. We’ll be sure to send out our verdict tomorrow.”

“You’ll receive a call from Mr. Thompson, of course,” Xavier chimes in with a warm smile.

I nod, although the movement feels robotic. “Thank you. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

The judges say their goodbyes—even Logan offers a curt nod. But as the door clicks shut behind them and their voices fade away into the night, the air seems to rush out of the room.

I stand by the door, my hand still resting on the cool metal of the handle, watching through the glass as their figures disappear down the street. The tension I’ve been carrying in my shoulders all night seems to unwind ever so slightly. I finally feel like I can relax, like the mask can come off.

Then I hear his voice, gentle yet uncertain. “Abby?”

I turn to find Karl standing there, his expression unreadable. In the quiet space of the now empty room, his presence is both a comfort and a reminder of Logan’s cryptic words earlier.

For a moment, I just stare at him, trying to find the right words, trying to make sense of it all. Finally, I can’t hold it in any longer. I need to know.

“Karl,” I start, my voice not quite steady, “Logan said something strange to me in the kitchen earlier.”

“Oh?” Karl’s brow furrows, and he takes a step closer, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“He implied that you... that you knew something. That there was some ‘truth’ you hadn’t told me from the day of the cook-off.” The words come out in a rush before I can stop them.

Karl’s face changes. The easy openness that was there a moment ago now seems to be replaced by something else, something that I can’t quite put a finger on.

“Did he?” His voice is even, but I can sense the tightness lurking beneath.

I nod, folding my arms across my chest as if that will somehow comfort me.

“Yeah, he did. He said, ‘Hasn’t your sous chef told you?’ when I asked why he seemed to dislike me. Then he said it wasn't his place to say, but that I should talk to you and get the truth. He wouldn’t waste his breath twice.”

Karl’s eyes shift away from mine for a fraction of a second before returning, but in that brief moment, I see something like regret flicker across his face.

“I see,” he says quietly, and it’s all too clear now. There’s a hint of something behind his words, something that tells me all I need to know; that Logan wasn’t just toying with me earlier. That there was some truth to his statement.

“So?” I prompt, the word filled with a combination of confusion and hurt. “What is it that I don’t know? What truth was Logan talking about?”

Karl lets out a long breath, and when he looks at me again, it’s as if he’s deflated ever so slightly.

“Abby, I…”