Chasing His Kickass Luna Back
Chapter 0336

Abby

After we shake on our new agreement, I can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off of my chest, and I can finally breathe a little easier; all thanks to a promise to keep things casual and take it slow for now.

I look at Karl and smile, grateful for his understanding.

“Let's have breakfast,” I say, meeting his gaze. “What are you hungry for?”

He shrugs. “I'll take you out. Anywhere you want to go, just tell me. Ask, and it's yours.”

The thought of going out together sounds nice, but at the same time, I think it's better if we just stay at home. “How about I make us something instead?” I ask. “Maybe going out right now isn't the best idea if we want to keep things private, and besides; I'm too tired after yesterday to go anywhere.”

Karl nods, his eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Whatever you want,” he says. While Karl is putting on something a bit more comfortable, I head into the kitchen and start brewing the coffee. While it's brewing, I pull eggs, cheese, and milk out of the fridge. A few moments later, the sound of Karl's footsteps approaches, and I turn to face him.

"Omelet?" I ask, holding up the ingredients.

He nods as a smile flickers across his face. “You always made the best omelets.”

I chuckle. “I know I do.”

I get to work mixing the eggs and milk into a bowl along with various spices. Karl puts on some music over the bluetooth speaker, and soon the kitchen is filled with the sounds of pop tunes and sizzling pans.

“You know I'll have to go home after this,” Karl says as he leans on the counter, watching me. “I don't want you to take that the wrong way.”

I meet his gaze from across the counter and shoot him a sideways look. “I know.”

He doesn't say anything else, and neither do I. Truthfully, I'm still a little sad that he has to go home to his pack; but at the very least, I feel a sense of hope now that we've come to our agreement— hope that maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to mean goodbye. Not yet, at least.

My wolf is happy as Karl turns up the music. I find myself bobbing along to it as I cook, sprinkling shredded cheese and chopped mushrooms into the egg and then carefully folding it over. Karl's laughter is infectious as he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, swaying along with me.

As we wait for the omelets to cook, I sit up on the counter, swinging my legs back and forth. I watch Karl move around the kitchen, his movements confident and sure.

He looks so at ease, so comfortable in his own skin. I missed this; seeing his body in the mornings, shirtless, his hair tousled from sleep.

And then, without thinking, I reach out and pull him close, pressing my lips to his. It's a soft, tender kiss as I tangle my fingers through his hair. His hands slip up the back of my shirt and wander my waist.

For a moment, I'm back in our old kitchen, and it's like we were never divorced. And for that fleeting moment, it's almost as if I've forgotten that we're no longer together.

But as we break the kiss, reality comes crashing back in. We're not there yet, and I have to remind myself of that.

Karl, oblivious to the turmoil in my heart, smiles at me. “I missed this,” he says, his voice low and husky.

I don't answer. Instead, I hope down from my perch and make my way back over to the stove, where the omelets are begging to be flipped. Karl watches me for a moment, but says nothing.

I think we both know the dangers of getting too close too fast. And I know it sucks, but if we want this to work down the road, we have to be careful. For both of our sakes.

Once we've finished eating, Karl makes his way to the bathroom for a shower before he needs to leave. I'm sitting on the couch, scrolling on my phone with a combination of excitement and nervousness in my chest.

But then, as I'm sitting there, my phone starts ringing. I look at the caller ID, and quirk an eyebrow when I see Mr. Thompson's name glaring back at me.

Why is he calling me right now?

“Hello?” I answer, both confused and a little concerned. I half expect him to be contacting me about the details of the overseas trip Xavier mentioned last night, but when I hear his voice, I know it's something far, far worse.

His voice is frantic on the other end. “Abby, something terrible has happened,”he says, his words coming out in a rush.

I sit up abruptly, my eyes wide. “What? What happened?”

"Dozens of people got sick after the party last night,” he says, sounding both frantic and angry. “It's food poisoning.”

I feel like I might faint. How is this possible? I was meticulous with my cooking yesterday, and my kitchen was spotless. There's no way anything I prepared could have caused people to get sick. “But I don't understand,” I stammer, my hands trembling. “I made sure everything was perfect.”

Mr. Thompson lets out a sigh. “I know you did, Abby,” he says. “But a food poisoning on this scale has major implications, especially for something as important as the Alpha gathering. Bad reviews are pouring in left and right. The health department wants to investigate you.”

“This can't be real,” I breathe, standing. “Mr. Thompson—"

"Abby," he says, sounding a little impatient now, “there are no excuses this time. The fact of the matter is this: the foodyoucooked has made dozens of Alphas and their families very, verysick.” “What can I do?” I blurt out as tears begin to well up in my eyes.

“Be at the restaurant in an hour,” he says quickly. “And be prepared for the most intense health department investigation you've ever experienced. And Abby..."

I swallow. “Yes?”

He sighs. “Your restaurant very well may shut down.”

When I hang up the phone, my heart feels like it's about to explode and my hands are shaking uncontrollably. It's not long before the first notifications start rolling in.

“Abby,"a text from Chloe reads,"I think you should read this.”

Her text has an I*******m [ink attached to it, and against my better judgment, I open it. My eyes widen as I see the posts: dozens of hashtags, angry captions, furious pictures depicting my downfall. “I always knew Abby was an unreliable chef,"one caption reads." #unprofessional!”

“I shouldn't have eaten any of that food. On my way to the ER!"

"Abby, you should be ashamed of yourself. After the second chance everyone gave you, this is what you do? Disgusting.”

I feel a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach as I scroll through the posts. It's like a nightmare come true, and I'm stuck in the middle of crippling sleep paralysis.

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