Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 100: Mushroom Hunting

Abby

The weight of failure feels almost physical, like there’s something sharp and heavy literally lodged in

my chest.

I stare at the computer screen displaying “Truffles Unavailable” in blunt, red letters. I’ve sent countless

emails to suppliers, spent hours scouring online marketplaces, and I’ve even visited local storefronts to

browse their selection, all to no avail.

A part of me wants to give up on the recipe altogether, to throw in the towel and declare the universe

the winner in this sadi stic game it’s been playing with me. I could hope that this recipe won’t be

chosen,

or at the very least, that I can read enough about it online to get a good idea as to how to make it.

But another part—perhaps the stubborn or perhaps the hopeful part—won’t let me settle for that. What

if this recipe is chosen for the competition? What if the online recipes just don’t do it justice? I need to

be prepared, and this could be my last shot at turning things around.

I close the laptop with a sigh, my eyes drifting to a framed picture of me and Chloe on a past

mushroom hunting trip. It’s not truffles, but maybe, just maybe, I could find something close, something

that’ll at least help me practice the textures and flavors.

…

“Going somewhere?” The voice slices through my thoughts, and I turn around to see Karl standing at

the doorway, his eyes lingering on my hiking boots and backpack. It’s early in the morning, too early for

anyone but me to be here. And yet there’s Karl, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as my grandmother used

to say.

“That’s none of your business,” I shoot back, my voice carrying a sharper edge than I intended. But

really, the last thing I need right now is more complications, more entanglement with him.

He steps into the room, the door falling shut behind him. “Abby, don’t be like this. I told you that I want

to help.”

“Well, I appreciate that, but I don’t need help,” I interject, zipping up my backpack with more force than

necessary. “I’ve been mushroom hunting since I was a kid. I’ll be fine.”

Karl studies me for a moment, his eyes penetrating, like he’s looking right through me. “You’re not

going to find truffles around here, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware,” I snap, “but I need to do something, okay? I need to practice and prepare.”

Suddenly, his demeanor shifts, his voice turning stern, his posture more rigid. “Then let me come with

you.”

I blink, surprised. There’s a flash of Alpha energy in his eyes, a silent, commanding aura that’s so at

odds with the restrained Karl I’ve been dealing with lately. And in that moment, something in me gives

way.

“Fine,” I hear myself say. “You can come.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a split second, I see something there, a glint of something like triumph or

maybe relief. “Good,” he says, his voice softening. “I’ll get my stuff.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in my office, staring at the empty space he just vacated. \

Why did I just agree to that?

…

The forest floor is soft beneath my boots, each step mu ffled by a layer of damp leaves and mossy

earth.

A fine mist hangs in the early morning air, casting the forest in surreal grays and blues. I feel like I’m

walking through a dream. Or maybe a nightmare, if something were to come out of the mist.

Karl keeps a respectful distance, his footsteps softly echoing my own. We move in a companionable

silence, our eyes scanning the ground for any signs of mushrooms.

“Over there.” I point to a cluster near a huge oak tree’s gnarled roots.

Karl approaches, leaning down to take a closer look. “Are these edible?”

I laugh, brushing away leaves to reveal the reddish-brown caps. “Definitely not the truffles I need, but

yes, they are edible.”

We continue this way for a while, discovering various fungi sca ttered throughout the forest floor—some

bursting with vivid colors, others more muted but no less fascinating.

Each find turns into a mini biology lesson as I identify them, and the tension that’s been clinging to us

slowly begins to lift.

“Hey, do you remember that time we went mushroom hunting while we were still married?” Karl finally

says, breaking a prolonged silence. “You had to stop me from picking that poisonous Amanita.”

I laugh at the memory, a tinge of nostalgia sweeping over me. “You were so excited, you didn’t even

bin

check. You would have sauteed it right up and ended up in the emergency room.”

Karl joins in the laughter, and for a brief moment, the forest becomes a sanctuary, a place where it’s

just us, the cool morning air, and nothing else. But then guilt seeps in, muddying the moment. We

shouldn’t be laughing, not like this, not when I just lost my two best friends because of him.

But then, something happens.

My thoughts sc atter as a distant shout cuts through the mist, followed by the disconcerting sound of a

gunshot echoing between the trees.

Karl reacts instantly, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind a large oak. His body presses close to

mine, an involuntary shield, and every nerve in my body ignites, caught between the exhilaration of his

touch and the fear ignited by the unknown danger.

“Karl—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, putting his finger to his lips. “Quiet. Stay still.”

Just as Karl commands, I stay as still as a statue. Aside from the rapid pounding of my heart, I feel like

I’m made of stone.

There’s more shouting, another gunshot, and then silence—thick and electric, like the air before a

really bad storm. We wait, hardly daring to breathe, until finally, Karl loosens his grip on me.

“Must’ve been hunters,” he whispers, his eyes searching mine as if looking for assurance. “But we

should head back, just in case.”

I nod, still too shaken to speak, but as we begin to retrace our steps, I can’t ignore the electric charge

that lingers between us. The sudden proximity of our bodies, combined with the fear from the gunshots,

has left me reeling. It’s all I can do to put one foot after the other.

“Are you okay?” Karl’s voice is tinged with genuine concern, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah,” I manage to say, my voice betraying a slight tremor. “I’m just a little startled, that’s all.”

He studies me for a moment longer, as if contemplating whether or not to press the issue. But then he

simply nods, a silent agreement to let the matter rest—for now.

The walk back to the car is filled with a different kind of silence. As we load up the mushrooms,

carefully avoiding each other’s gaze, it becomes painfully clear that the forest, misty and cold, has

been a double-edged sword. It gave us a brief respite, a chance to remember what it was like before

everything got so complicated, but it also forced a confrontation with feelings that neither of us is ready

to deal with.

Karl finally breaks the silence as he closes the trunk, his eyes meeting mine with an unreadable

expression. “We should get going.”

“Yes,” I agree, a sudden tightness in my throat. “We should.”