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

out, his

pent-up frustration, the

my pride—it all comes rushing to the surface like

That’s it.

shaking with barely contained fury. I shoot one last

before, only to realize that she’s gone. Where

I’m now met with nothing

down

to myself than anyone else, and storm out

door into the alley, my chest heaving. The

feel it. I pull out a cigarette and light it, drawing the

the gaping void

my mind reeling. What the hell am

John’s relentless cr ap—it’s all for her. For Abby. Because despite the chaos,

all, I

I stare up at the sliver of night

confined I feel, boxed in by my own choices, my own

I want to break free, to tell John to shove it,

can’t. Because deep down, as much as it galls me to admit it,

chance to make things right, to prove that I’m not the same guy

unforgiving wall of the alley, still wrestling with the storm

within, not from my human side, but from the wolf

shares my consciousness.

is it now?” I murmur under my breath, trying to soothe the restless animal

an a ss, Karl,” my wolf’s voice echoes in my head,

pushing your buttons on purpose. You just have to push through

know,” I reply silently, a conversation taking place entirely within

to do this, to prove I can be part of her world. But I f

do. It’ll just be

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

since I walked out of

out, be the bigger man and tolerate

trying, really trying, to be the man she wants

if reading

that you’re putting her needs

doubt creeps in, worming its way into my mind despite

if I’m forever labeled the screw-up, the black

who broke her heart?