Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Chapter 0218

“I feel a little bit like a failure,” he suddenly blurts out. “Like what my pack is saying about me… that I’m

a bad Alpha… might be true.”

My eyes widen. “Karl! Don’t—”

“Abby,” he says, tilting his head back to look up at the sky, “I came here—to this city—for you. To win

you back. No other reason. And I practically abandoned my pack. I’ve been dealing with everything

over the phone, over email.”

His words make my heart sink. I guess I knew that it was true, but hearing it out loud like this kind of

hurts, I’ll admit, and not in the way I would have thought.

I feel a little guilty—guilty for stringing him along like this, guilty for keeping him here for so long, guilty

for allowing him to shirk his responsibilities and lose approval as Alpha, all so I could keep him on a

leash in case I ever decided to get back together with him.

And what really sucks is that even now, even as he’s telling me this, I’m still not sure what I want. I

don’t know if I want to get back together, even after everything he’s done for me, and it must hurt him

more than I could ever know.

We fall into silence, each lost in our thoughts, the wine bottle danging from his fingers.

My eyes keep straying to his lips, remembering the feel of them on mine, wondering if it will happen

again. But the gravity of what he’s shared holds me back. This isn’t the time for that.

“So,” I murmur, wanting to change the subject, at least a little bit, “we won’t see each other until the

Alpha party?” The words come out softer than I intend, tinged with a sense of loss I never expected to

feel.

“That’s the plan,” he confirms. “Unless you plan on forfeiting your cooking competition and joining me

back home?”

I force a laugh, even as my heart clenches at the thought. “Tempting. But, you know, pride and all that.”

He looks at me, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Of course. Can’t have the famous chef

bow out, can we?”

His words lighten the mood, but the space between us still feels loaded, every word and glance laden

with unspoken emotions. We both take another sip of wine, as if the liquid courage could make this

easier.

“You know,” I start, unsure of how to frame the words that are clawing at the back of my throat, “even if

I lose tomorrow, I’ll still be your date for the Alpha party. If you want me to be, that is.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world around us falls away. “You’re not going to lose,” he

says softly. “But I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Something flickers between us then, an understanding, a connection. It’s as if, for the first time in a

long time, we’re seeing each other for what we really are: two lost souls searching for our other half,

passing by each other in a sea of blotted out stars and wine. Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

“We should head back,” he suddenly suggests, pulling me back into reality. “People will start thinking

we ran off together.”

I nod, reluctant to break the spell of the moment. “You’re right.”

We start to move, gathering up the half-empty wine bottle, our movements a little clumsier, a little

slower, as if we’re both hesitant to let this night end. Finally, we step out of the alley, heading back

toward the building.

But just as I reach for the door, Karl stops me, his hand catching mine in a firm grip.

“Abby…” he says, his voice tinged with a seriousness that makes me look up.

“Yeah?” I murmur.

He pauses, licking his lips in that oh-so-Karl way that makes me want to close the distance between us.

“I want you to know, I’m really proud of you.”

My heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you, Karl,” I manage. “That means a lot.”

He squeezes my hand, holding my gaze for a moment longer. Then, he lets go. “Good luck tomorrow.”