Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 308

Abby

As I enter Karl’s study to tell him about the mysterious car, I find myself stopped in my tracks. The scene in front of me is rather jarring, to say the least.

He’s slumped in his chair, a half-empty bottle of what looks like his most expensive whiskey on the desk. He looks up, his eyes glazed, as if he’s somewhere far away. “Abby?” he slurs, his tongue thick and heavy. “What do you want?”

His voice sounds a little harsh, as if he’s angry or upset. It leaves me taken aback; this is a far cry from the Karl who was laughing and playing games with us earlier. He was so jovial at the party, clearly having fun with everyone. Why the sudden change?

“Karl?” I say softly, taking a step into the room as my eyes flit over to the bottle once more. “Are you okay?”

He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that doesn’t match the troubled look in his eyes. I watch as he lifts the bottle to his lips and takes another swig, the dark amber liquid making a sloshing sound in the bottle. “It’s fine. You can stay if you want,” he slurs, waving his hand dismissively.

If I want? That’s a strange way to put it; Karl never speaks to me like that. Something must be going on with him, but I have no clue what it could be.

I hesitate, my heart sinking at the sight of him like this. “I... I had something to tell you,” I start, “but maybe it’s better if we talk in the morning, when your head is clear.”

Karl huffs, his fingers tightening around the whiskey bottle. “Whatever,” he mutters, downing another gulp. He sets the bottle back down onto the desk so hard that a little sloshes out onto the wood, and the sight of it makes me cringe. Karl is never this careless.

“Karl, what’s wrong?” I ask, concern lacing my voice. “Why are you drinking like this?”

He waves me off, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just enjoying my night, like I’m allowed to do. I’m not hurting anybody, now am I?”

I frown, my worry deepening. “You’re more than welcome to drink if you want, but... you’re not usually like this. What happened? Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

“Hells, woman,” he groans, passing his hand over his weary face. “Nothing’s wrong. Can you just drop it?”

“Don’t be rude,” I chide him, offended by his choice of words. “And besides, did you drink all of that yourself?”

Karl avoids my gaze, staring into the glass of the bottle as the light from the lamp reflects off of it. “Oh, you mean this bottle?” he says, holding it up. “Just opened it tonight. Plan on finishing it, too. If you want some, get your own bottle; there’s more on the shelf.”

Alarm bells ring in my head. This isn’t like him at all. Karl has never been so irresponsible with alcohol, or really with much of anything, for that matter. “Karl, that’s whiskey,” I say with a sigh. “And a lot of whiskey, too. If you drink that whole bottle, you’ll give yourself alcohol poisoning. Are you trying to put yourself in the hospital or something?”

He huffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Aw, c’mon. You don’t really care, Abby. Why pretend?”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. “I do care, Karl. And I’m going to take that bottle away. You cut me off at the bar last night because you cared, so I’m doing the same.”

Karl’s expression darkens. “You don’t care, Abby. You don’t…”

Ignoring his protests, I move towards the desk to take the bottle. He’s just being a belligerent drunk and nothing more, or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. But as I reach for it, Karl stands up abruptly, trying to keep it from me. In his drunken state, he knocks over a few items on his desk, including a vase that shatters into a million on the floor.

“Karl!” I exclaim, rushing over to help.

He pushes me away slightly, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. “Don’t bother, Abby. It’s just like us—short-lived and stupid.”

I freeze, stunned by his words. “What do you mean?”

He stares at the broken glass on the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. “I heard you talking to Chloe earlier. In the kitchen. I know how you see our... whatever it was. Emotionless, stupid, just a means to an end. And you’re planning on ending it without even talking to me first, without even thinking how it might affect me.”

“Karl, that’s not what happened,” I murmur, although I know that’s only a half-truth. I did say those things, and at the time, I think I meant them. In my own twisted sort of way, at least; I was trying to justify my decision to end things with him. But after talking to Chloe, I’m not so sure if I want to end things anymore.

“I know damn well what happened,” Karl says, crouching to pick up the broken glass. He’s swaying in his spot, and has to hold the corner of the desk to keep himself from stumbling over. When I take a step toward him in an attempt to help, his hand shoots out, his index finger pointed at me and a determined look in his eyes.

“I got it,” he says through his teeth before returning to his task. I sigh, taking a step back.

“Karl, you need to listen to me,” I say. “I can explain what really happened, but you need to sit down and try to relax.”

“To hell with relaxing,” Karl slurs. I watch in shock, then, as Karl tries to pick up the pieces of glass; but his fingers are clumsy, and he’s swaying in his spot. He’s way too drunk, but he won’t listen to me. Then, the worst happens: he carelessly picks up a large shard of glass, and in an instant, the glass cuts into his palm. Blood starts to seep out a moment later, and panic sets in.

“Karl, stop! You’re hurt!” I exclaim, reaching for him.

“I’m fine,” he says, recoiling from my touch despite the blood staining his palm and dripping onto the carpet. “I’m fine, and you don’t care…”

Ignoring him, I rush to get the first aid kit from the closet in the hallway. When I return, I find him still trying to clean up, his hand bleeding more profusely as he curses under his breath. He’s frustrated, and I understand why, but this needs to stop.

“Karl, please sit down,” I say, my voice firm. “You need to let me help you.”

He looks up, his eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of vulnerability before he masks it with his drunken facade.

“No,” he grumbles, returning to his half-hearted—and futile—attempts to clean up the glass. “I’m fine. Leave me alone, Abby.”

I’ve had enough. My wolf bristles inside of me, just as sick and tired and frustrated as I am. I clench my hands into fists at my sides and pull my shoulders back, tilting up my chin at him.

“Karl… Sit down, right now!”