Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Chapter 0251

Abby

My apartment is dark when I finally get home tonight. It still smells faintly of fresh paint from the new

coat that my landlord put on, but I can still sense the lingering scent of smoke, too.

I decide to avoid the harsh glow of the kitchen lights as I plop the wine glass that’s been tucked under

my arm onto the counter island, followed by the bag of takeout food that I picked up on my way home.

It’s still warm, the grease beginning to seep through the bag as the faint smell of garlic and onions

permeates through the air. On any other night, I might be delighted to dig in; but honestly, I have no Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

appetite tonight. Even the thought of food makes me sick after everything, after all of the failed dishes.

But I know I need to eat, and if I don’t, I know I’ll regret it later.

For a moment, I dig through my cupboard for a plate and some silverware, but eventually decide to opt

out of the plate.

The cork gives a subtle pop as I open the wine. No glass, I decide. Not tonight. I take a swig straight

from the bottle, the sharp taste of alcohol momentarily cutting through the numbness. It’s a start.

I crash onto the couch, the plush cushions a welcome comfort after being on my feet all day. The TV

flickers to life with a soft buzz a moment later, and I navigate to N*****x to drown myself in a world away

from reality.

I’m not sure how much time passes. Hours, maybe. I feel like I’m caught in a haze of cheap movies,

cheap wine, and even cheaper food. But the memories of today—the truffle dish, the disdainful look in

Logan’s eyes, the trophy in Daniel’s hand, the kiss with Karl—keep playing in front of me, crowding out

the movies on the screen.

“Dammit,” I whisper to myself as I take another swig.

I must look pathetic now, especially when I was so sure that I would win. And it’s not even just that I

lost, either; it’s that I was humiliated on live television. Ingredients were swapped, tussles were had,

insults were thrown, and my pleas were ignored.

Come tomorrow, I’ll be a culinary laughingstock. Hell, I might even be laughed right out of my own

restaurant.

I couldn’t bear to go there tonight. I can’t even bear to glance at my phone, because I know I’ll be

barraged with a chorus of sympathies that will only make matters worse. Right now, I just want to hide

my head in the sand.

At some point, the bottle of wine finally empties. I don’t remember finishing it, but the fuzziness in my

head is enough proof. Groaning, I push my way up off of the couch and shuffle into the kitchen, where

another bottle waits for me in the fridge. I pop that open, too, and make my way back to the living room.

It’s then, as I’m standing in the doorway with the second wine bottle to my lips and a romance scene on

the TV, that I hear it: my wolf’s voice, clear as day, in the back of my mind.

“Are you just going to wallow in misery, or are you going to keep pushing forward?”

Her sudden presence is like a slap to the face, or a rush of cold wind on a hot day. It takes me

completely by surprise in my current state.

The bottle slips from my grasp, wine splashing onto the carpet—a vibrant red against the white fibers. I

curse out loud and nearly fall onto the tile floor as I dash into the kitchen for a towel.

“You could have warned me,” I say out loud as I grab the towel off of the hook and return, falling to my

knees and dabbing it into the carpet before the stain can spread. “Now I’ve spilt wine everywhere.”

“That’s really your main concern, Abby?” My wolf’s voice is thick with disapproval. “The wine? Don’t be

so miserable.”

“Look, I think I’m allowed to be miserable after today, okay?” I grumble, pressing the towels into the

wine, but the red just seeps deeper into the fabric. “After all that public humiliation, I think I've earned a

little wallowing time.”

My wolf’s voice snarls in the back of my head. “Earned it? You think you’ve earned the right to give up

because of one setback?”

“Who said I gave up?!” My voice rises an octave before I steady myself again, and I take a deep

breath. “I just... need a moment to process.”

She chuckles. “A moment? Lately, whenever things start to get tough, it’s like you need to ‘process.’”

I throw the soaked towel onto the floor in annoyance. “I don’t do that.”

But my wolf’s retort is immediate, her voice almost a growl. “But you do. When Karl left, who curled up

and let the world pass by?”

“That’s unfair.” I rip off some paper towels for the roll, thinking that maybe this will do the trick instead.

“You’ve been dormant since then, not me. You’re supposed to be my strength.”

“And what am I if not for a reflection of you, Abby?” There’s a note of sadness in my wolf’s voice now.

“I’m you, just in a different form. When you shut down, I shut down.”

I sit back on my heels, the cleaning forgotten. “So you’re saying this is my fault? That I... want to fail?”

“No.” My wolf’s voice softens, hardly more than a whisper now. “I’m saying that you can’t let this single

setback plunge you into another depression.”

I stand, leaving the stain on the floor, deciding that it’s a problem for future Abby. “I’m just… Tired,” I

say, flopping down onto the couch again. “It’s not fair.”

“Nothing is fair. It doesn’t mean you just give up and wallow when things go your way.”

“Look, I’m not ‘giving up,’” I say with a sigh. “But I need a fucking break. A long one. Maybe forever.”

“So, what now?” I whisper, more to myself than to the wolf.

There’s a moment of stillness, then a sense of my wolf’s presence receding. Her voice feels far away

now. Drąмanоvels.com

“Now, you decide,” she says. “Stay here, with the spilled wine and broken dreams, or get up and show

them who Abby is. It's time to choose.”

Maybe she’s right.

I’m sitting here, the movie still playing softly in the background, when I suddenly hear it.

A knock on the door.