Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

#Chapter 64: Out in the Open

Standing in the alley, the tension between Karl and me is almost palpable, like a living, breathing entity

that neither of us can ignore. His eyes search mine, as if trying to excavate the truth from deep within

me.

“Is it true, Abby? Your wolf is—”

I cut him off, not wanting to delve into that cavern of pain right now. “Forget it,” I say, turning away.

There’s a beat of silence as we both grapple with our feelings. I thought that Karl somehow knew about

the fact that my wolf has been in a coma all this time, but it seems as though he has no idea. I can’t

decide if it makes it hurt worse or less.

“Abby, why didn’t you tell me?” he asks gently.

I can feel his fingers brush my arm. It’s a comfort for the briefest of moments, but I’m still angry, still

hearing Chloe’s words whirling around in my head. I pull away and turn on him, pointing a finger at his

chest.

“Karl, if you want to get on my good side, if you want a chance at anything, you need to be a team

player. That’s the end of it."

He studies me for a beat, then finally nods, clearly giving up on the subject of my wolf. “Fine. But you

need to talk to John about his attitude too, Abby. It’s not just me who has a problem with him.”

The concession tastes bitter in my mouth, but it’s necessary. John’s inappropriate remarks and hot-

headed attitude in the kitchen have been a problem for a long time now. He’s such a good employee

and an excellent cook that I try to ignore it, but Karl is right; it’s about time that he’s put in his place.

“Agreed,” I say with a nod. “Now get back in there. We have a dinner service to complete.”

Karl gives me a nod, a mere shadow of his former cocky self, and heads back inside. I take a deep

breath, preparing myself for the conversation that awaits me. With John.

The atmosphere in the kitchen is thick with tension as I reenter, but I push through it, striding past the

line cooks and prep stations until I reach my office.

Once inside, I take a few minutes to steady my racing heart, to gather my thoughts. Then, pulling open

the door, I lean out into the hallway.

“John, can I see you in my office? Now?”

The instant the words leave my mouth, I sense the shift in the room, the undercurrent of curiosity and

speculation. John glances up from his prep work, his eyes narrowing as they meet mine.

“Sure, boss,” he mutters, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before making his way toward me.

As soon as we’re both inside, I close the door, sealing us off from the world outside. “Have a seat,” I

say, gesturing toward the chair across from my desk.

He sits, but his posture is rigid, his eyes wary. “Abby, if you’re gonna scold me over that jackass—”

I take a deep breath, trying to choose my words carefully. “John, your attitude in the kitchen has been

an issue for a long time. But it’s gone too far. Your comments, your tone, the way you speak to the

team—it’s unacceptable.”

His eyes flash with indignation. “So, you’re siding with the new guy now? Is that it?”

I look away, my hands clenched into fists around the arms of my chair.

“This isn’t about taking sides, John. This is about the environment in our kitchen. And it’s not just Karl.

Your comments have been making female staff uncomfortable as well. This is your last warning.”

John’s face reddens, and for a moment I think he’s going to explode. “I’ve been working here for years,

Abby. You’ve got to be kidding me. Why are you bringing all this up now?”

I shake my head. “That’s my business. And yes, you have been here for years, which is why this is just

a warning.”

John pauses, opening and closing his mouth as though trying to say something but not coming up with

the right words. But then, finally, he spits it out. “This is all because you’ve got the hots for the new guy,

especially now that you’re single, isn’t it?”

My eyes snap back to him, incredulous. “Get out, John.”

“What?”

“Get out,” I repeat, my voice icy. “And come back when you’re ready to speak to me with the respect I

deserve as your boss.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, as if trying to decide whether or not I’m serious. Then, with a huff

of frustration, he rises from his seat, storming out of my office and slamming the door behind him.

After the door slams shut in his wake, I drop my face into my hands and let out a sigh that feels like it’s

been building and building for years. This restaurant was supposed to be a dream, not a perpetual

stress-inducing nightmare. But the show must go on. This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

I’m about to rise from my seat when I hear a knock at the door. Looking up, I find Ethan standing there,

concern written all over his face.

“What just happened, Abby?” he asks, taking a tentative step into my office.

I rub my temples, then exhale deeply before recapping the unpleasant exchange with John. “He

doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of treating people with respect, Ethan. It’s frustrating and frankly,

unacceptable. Especially his snide comments today. He said…”

I pause, swallowing, because frankly, John wasn’t entirely wrong. I do have the hots for Karl, and I miss

him, but I won’t admit it to anyone, nor do I ever plan on acting on it. And that has nothing to do with

any of this anyway.

“Nevermind,” I continue, shaking my head. “I won’t repeat it. It was vile.”

Ethan’s eyes narrow sympathetically as he closes the door behind him. “That’s low. Even for John.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, “I thought so too.”

Walking over to my desk, Ethan wraps me in a friendly hug. “He’ll realize he’s an idiot and come back

to apologize, you’ll see. You know how he is.”

I let out another sigh, this one tinged with a sadness I can't quite place. “I hope you’re right, Ethan. But

honestly, I wish everyone would just take a chill pill. I have enough going on without having to play

mediator between grown men acting like petulant children.”

He releases me from the hug and looks me in the eyes. “Is there anything else bothering you?”

I hesitate for a moment, then decide to spill it. “I need to choose a sous chef for the cook-off, and now

I’m second-guessing whether I want someone as hot-headed as John standing beside me. Especially

on live television.”

“So what will you do?” Ethan asks, leaning back on my desk.

I shrug, chewing my lip. “Would you want to do it with me?”

Ethan’s face pales at my words, a reaction that confuses me until he speaks. “I don’t know the first

thing about being a sous chef, Abby. I can piddle around the kitchen, maybe bake a mean loaf of

bread, but I’m not exactly cooking competition material. Plus, my limp...you know how people can be. It

could be off-putting on TV.”

I reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Ethan, you’re a part of this team. No one would look

down on you because of your limp. And you’re a fast learner; I could teach you.”

He looks unconvinced but gives me a small nod. “If you can’t find anyone else, I’ll stand beside you for

the cook-off. But I’d prefer to be your last choice, if you don’t mind.”

A small smile crosses my lips. “Alright, I’ll respect that.”

He nods, gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze, and heads toward the door. “Everything’s going to

work out, Abby. You’ll see.”

As he steps out, closing the door gently behind him, I’m left alone with my thoughts, the silence

amplifying the dilemma that still hangs in the air.

Who should I choose as my sous chef…?