Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 345

Karl

Leaning back in the creaking desk chair, I pinch the bridge of my nose. This week’s pack meeting feels like a special kind of torture.

It’s not that Ethan is the trouble—actually, he’s been a huge help—but it’s more so that I’m sitting hunched over at a rickety desk in a cheap motel, and I hardly slept at all last night.

“Well, that was a productive meeting, if I may say so myself,” Ethan says, his face smiling at me through the video call.

“Yeah.” I offer him a smile of my own, although it doesn’t even come close to reaching my eyes. “I think the new trade tariffs might ruffle some feathers at first, but once people see the benefits the extra funds have on our pack, such as highway improvement, they’ll soften toward the idea.”

Ethan nods. “Absolutely.” He pauses then, his eyes seeming to study me through the screen. “I must say, though, you’re looking a bit peaky, Karl,” he remarks. “That dingy motel getting you down?”

“You could say that,” I mutter.

I debate even telling him about the latest indignity—the couple next door who won’t seem to quit arguing for more than ten minutes, during which time they loudly fuck with their headboard banging right up against the wall—but I quickly think better of it.

Ethan doesn’t need more reasons to fret over me out here. He already knows about the situation with Abby, and that’s bothering him enough as it is. Bless his kind soul.

My brother clicks his tongue sympathetically. “I take it you haven’t heard from Abby at all, then.”

Just her name sends a fresh wave of remorse crashing through me. I fix my gaze on a stain in the shitty carpet so Ethan won’t see it in my eyes through the video call.

“Not a word since she booted me out. She blocked me, too. I left a voicemail, but…” I rake a hand roughly through my hair. “Can’t say I blame her. I fucked this up monumentally.”

“Hey, don’t lose hope yet,” Ethan says gently. “Just give Abby time. I know you two are fated mates. You’ll work it out eventually, just like last time.”

I simply grunt, unconvinced. Yeah, work it out, huh? Will it take three whole years like last time, too?

“So,” I say, wanting to change the subject off of myself. “Speaking of trouble in paradise… How are things with you and Gianna?”

Ethan pauses for a moment, opening then closing his mouth a few times as though he’s struggling with what to say. “Things are… on the mend,” he finally says. “Our first couple’s therapy appointment was this morning, as you know.”

“And?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s going to be a long process. I’ll say that much. But… like you and Abby, Gianna and I are fated mates,” he says softly. “We both want to work it out.”

“That’s all that matters, then, right?” I ask. I think back to the night of the press conference, when Abby gave the two of them her blessing despite everything. It was so kind of her. I’d say that I wish she could extend that same kindness to me, but she already has.

Multiple times. And I blew it, once again; maybe for good this time.

“Hey.” Ethan notices my sadness through the screen and shoots me a sympathetic look. “Get out of that hotel room and get some fresh air today. You’ll work things out with Abby.”

I manage another stiff smile, if one can even call a slight twitch of the lips a ‘smile’.

“Thanks, Ethan. I’ll try. Talk to you later.”

The weight of lonely misery blankets my shoulders once again when the call disconnects fully. Glancing at the bedside clock, I see it’s only early afternoon. The prospect of wasting away another empty day trapped in this dingy little room swiftly becomes unbearable.

Maybe Ethan was right; maybe some fresh air would do me some good. Besides, this room smells like cigarettes. Not that I’ve helped with that any, though; I’ve already blown through half a pack since I got here, which is way more than I would usually smoke in a year.

Shrugging into my worn leather jacket, I step out into the glaring daylight and set off walking without consciously deciding on a destination.

Anything to escape staring at those damned flowered wallpaper stripes and listening to that couple screaming at each other any longer.

Somehow my brooding autopilot leads me straight downtown to none other than Adam’s restaurant. I step inside and sidle up to the bar, ordering a drink. All around me, other patrons pleasantly enjoy lunch and chat over mimosas.

God dammit.

Could be me in here sharing a meal with Abby if I hadn’t gone and ruined everything yet again.

Lost in glum thought, I don’t notice anyone approaching until a warm hand lands on my shoulder.

“Karl? What are you doing here?”

I look up to see Adam standing beside me, wearing his pristine chef’s whites with a dish towel slung over his shoulder. I raise my glass slightly and offer him one of my signature stiff smiles. “Just thought I’d stop by,” I say.

Adam nods and slides onto the stool next to me. “Your pale face is telling me otherwise.”

I can’t help but blanch a bit as I glance up to meet my gaze in the wide mirror that hangs over the bar. Ethan and Adam are both right; I look like death. There’s no hiding it.

“Alright, alright,” I admit. “Maybe I could be a little better.”

Adam levels me with a quizzical gaze. “Is it about Abby?”

I nearly scoff. He’s too astute, I’ll give him that. I simply nod, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “Lay it on me,” he says.”

I take a burning gulp of liquor before answering hoarsely. “I don’t want to get too into it, but… it’s hopeless. I fucked up, and now she wants nothing to do with me.”

Adam makes a thoughtful sound. “You didn’t cheat, did you?”

“No. No way.” I shake my head. “I would never, not in a million years. But I… I didn’t consult her about something when I should have. Something serious. I went behind her back, thinking that I know what’s best for her. When she inevitably found out, she broke up with me on the spot.”

He’s silent for a few moments, processing my words, before he nods to the bartender. A moment later, a glass of gin is placed in front of him. He sips it before turning to me.

“Look, I know Abby and I didn’t… work out,” he finally says quietly. “But I like to think that I do know her.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he continues, emphasizing each word, “Abby loves you. Hell, she thought about you all the time when we were together. She was always… somewhere else. Somewhere with you, in her mind. And if I know anything about her, I know that she’s still there. With you.”

I blink rapidly. “What makes you so sure she feels anything toward me now except for hatred?” I bite out.

Adam scoffs. “Come on. Her heart chose you as her mate long before you even met,” he points out, swirling his own drink pensively. “Bonds like that don’t just disappear when things get rocky.”

I absorb his words silently. A fragile sprout of hope starts to take tentative root inside my chest. Maybe he’s onto something—Abby and I are intrinsically bound on a profound soul-deep level.

Surely that counts for something still, even after everything.

Encouraged by my thoughtful silence, Adam offers a faint, rueful smile. “For what it’s worth, I know you're a good man who cares for her, Karl. Just prove you’ll never make mistakes like that from here on out. Make the effort to be better, you know?”

I can’t help but snort a bit. I open my mouth to say that I already have made those efforts, but Adam stops me as though he’s read my mind.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” he says firmly. “And yeah, sure you seem to have changed. You’ve apologized, you righted your wrongs, made efforts to show her that you’re different now. But how deep do those changes go?”

His words make me fall silent for a moment before I manage to mutter out a reply. “I… Maybe not deep enough,” I admit.

Adam nods and finishes off his gin, standing. “Make them go deeper, then,” he says. “Don’t just skim the surface, expecting it to be enough.”

He pauses, then pokes me gently right in the center of the chest. “You’ve gotta make those changes in there, in a permanent way. Otherwise, the giant block of ice you’ve kept hidden in your depths is gonna sink both of you.”

With that, Adam walks away, leaving me taken aback. The ice below the surface…

I hate to admit it, but maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve only skimmed the surface with the changes I’ve made.

Suddenly, I slip my hand into my pocket and produce my car keys. Without another word, I slap a wad of cash onto the bar and storm off, leaving my drink almost untouched on the counter.

I think I know what I need to do.