Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 62: Too Much To Ask
The door to Abby’s office swings shut behind me, and my mind races as I walk back into the kitchen.

First, she asks me to make nice with Chloe, and now this? Apprenticing under John, of all people? A

guy I can’t even stand to be in the same room with?

“Karl, grab the veal from the fridge. Now.” John’s voice snaps me back to reality, jarring and grating as

ever.

I grab the veal and set it on the counter, taking a moment to steel myself. I’m doing this for Abby, I

remind myself. As if sensing my inner turmoil, Abby glances over at me from across the kitchen.

Our eyes meet for just a second, but it’s enough. I nod subtly. I can do this.

The dinner rush starts, and the kitchen turns into a whirlwind of flying knives and sizzling pans. John

wastes no time in laying into me.

“Come on, Karl, chop those onions faster! We don’t have all day!”

My knuckles whiten around the knife handle, but I force a smile. “Sure, John, whatever you say.”

Dinner service rushes on like a torrential river, and I’m just trying to keep my head above water. Each

critique from John feels like another weight pulling me down, but I keep reminding myself why I’m here,

who I’m here for.

The clock ticks past nine, and the last orders are finally up. John looks at me, a satisfied smirk

spreading across his face. “Not a complete disaster, I suppose.”

My jaw clenches, my fists curl, but I refuse to let the torrent out. Abby’s eyes catch mine again, her

gaze searching. I look away. I can’t let her see how much this is getting to me.

And that’s when it happens. One small, insignificant straw that breaks the proverbial camel’s back.

“Karl, you idiot! These steaks are overcooked! Do you even know what medium-rare looks like?” John

the words out, his face

snaps. All the pent-up frustration, the hours of biting my tongue,

rushing to the surface like a tidal

That’s it.

barely contained fury. I shoot one last

realize that she’s gone. Where her beautiful face would

a bit, I’m now met with nothing but a blank

deep, ragged breath, I throw my apron down onto the counter. “Cook the

growl, more to myself than anyone else, and storm out of the

back door into the alley, my chest heaving. The cold night air stings

pull out a cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke deep into

gaping void inside

reeling. What the hell am I doing? All of

relentless cr ap—it’s all for her. For Abby. Because despite

I want her back in

as I stare up at the sliver of night sky visible

reminder of how confined I feel, boxed

tell John to shove it, to tell Abby that this is too

me to admit it,

chance to make things right, to prove that I’m

back against the cold, unforgiving wall of the alley, still wrestling with the storm of

me. A deep growl resonates from within, not from my

shares my consciousness.

I murmur under my breath, trying to soothe the restless animal inside

an a ss, Karl,” my wolf’s voice echoes in my head, clear as day.

on purpose. You just have to push through it for

I reply silently, a conversation taking place entirely within

me to do this, to prove I can be part of

“I know you do. It’ll just

though?” I ask. “It feels like she’ll never

I’ve been asking myself ever since I walked out of Abby’s office earlier

neck out, be the bigger man and tolerate John for Abby’s

sees that I’m trying, really trying, to be the man she wants

will see,” my wolf reassures me, as if reading my thoughts. “She’ll

you’re putting her needs above your

its way into my mind despite my wolf’s

see past my old mistakes? What if I’m

who broke her heart?