Chapter 107


    Karl


    “Watch it, you’re massacring those veggies,” John calls out, ncing over from the stove where he’s


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    sauteeing some garlic and mushrooms.


    I chuckle, adjusting my grip on the knife. I’m supposed to be julienning some peppers, but instead I’ve


    lost my train of thought and identally begun dicing them instead. “Yeah, well, they had iting.”


    John grins, shaking his head. “Y’know, you’re not as unfunny and stupid as I thought you were.”


    “Could say the same about you,” I reply, gathering the sliced vegetables into a bowl.


    Who would’ve thought? John and I, mortal enemies turned reluctant allies. A couple of weeks ago, we


    could barely stand to be in the same room, but time and circumstances—and angry bosses—have a


    way of forcing you to reassess your priorities.


    “It’s all about coboration,” John continues, his tone more philosophical than I thought the brute would


    be capable of. “You can’t make a great dish with just one ingredient. Same with a kitchen. Everyone’s


    got to pull their weight, contribute their vor for the bigger picture.”


    “You should put that on a que or something.”


    “And have everyone roll their eyes? Nah, I’ll stick to cooking,” heughs, adding a ssh of white wine


    to the pan, filling the air with a rich, aromatic scent.


    The door to Abby’s office opens, and for a moment, my world narrows. She steps out, her eyes


    scanning the room as if looking for something—or someone. When her gaze falls on me, my heart


    leaps in anticipation.


    But she averts her eyes, quickening her pace as she walks out of the kitchen.


    The atmosphere turns brittle around me. John notices, his eyes narrowing. “Hey, snap out of it! You’re


    burning the scallops.”


    “Sorry,” I mutter.


    I refocus on the task at hand, on the sound of the scallops sizzling in the pan, but the weight ofst


    night hangs over me like a dark cloud. We’d argued, voices raised, over her decision topete in that


    culinary contest despite our earlier agreement. I’d felt betrayed; she’d felt cornered. And now, this.


    The wolf inside me stirs, restless. “You messed up big time,” he says, a growl wrapped in a whisper.


    “I know,” I reply, my mind a swirl of regret and confusion. “Trust me. I know.”


    As the day winds down, as the kitchen grows quieter, the realization sinks in deeper. Abby isn’t just the


    co-owner of this restaurant. She’s not just another chef. She’s someone I care deeply about, someone


    whose dreams and desires should mean as much to me as my own.


    And yet, I let my insecurities, my fears, get in the way. I shake my head, frustrated with myself, with the


    wedge that’s been driven between us.


    “I’m heading out. You good here?” John asks, snapping me back to reality.


    “Yeah. See you tomorrow,” I say, forcing a smile.


    He nods, casting a somewhat concerned nce my way before exiting the kitchen. Alone now, I take


    off my apron and hang it up. My eyes catch Abby’s office door, still closed, a barrier in more ways than


    one.


    For a moment, I almost knock. But then, I decide that right now, I think I’d rather have a drink.


    …


    The kitchen is closed, but the bar always stays open for a couple of hours longer. I sit at the counter,


    nursing a ss of whiskey that tastes a lot like failure. My eyes catch my reflection in the ss, the


    questions there unanswered, piercing. Should I have reacted the way I did to Abby?


    I just wish that she didn’t have to make things soplicated. This isn’t what I nned.


    “She’s seeding in life, Karl,” my wolf murmurs, his voice a gravelly echo in my mind. “You should be


    proud. Not territorial.”


    “Proud?” I almost snort, swirling the whiskey in its ss. “She knew how much that party meant to me


    —”