Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

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