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

spits the words out, his face flushed

frustration, the hours

pride—it all comes rushing to the surface like

That’s it.

hands shaking with barely contained fury. I shoot one last look toward

was standing before, only to realize that she’s gone. Where her beautiful face would have

met with

I throw my apron down onto the counter. “Cook the steaks yourself, then.

some air,” I growl, more to myself than anyone else, and storm out

alley, my chest heaving. The cold night air stings

and light it, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs as if it

fill the gaping void inside

What the hell am I doing?

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

frustration of it all, I want her

slowly as I stare up at the sliver of night sky visible between

how confined I feel, boxed in by my

John to shove it, to tell Abby that this

much as it galls me to admit

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

unforgiving wall of the alley,

not from my human

shares my consciousness.

is it now?” I murmur under my breath,

Karl,” my wolf’s voice echoes in my

have

silently, a conversation taking place entirely within the confines

be part of her

“I know you do. It’ll

“It feels like she’ll never be

been asking myself ever since I walked

tolerate John for Abby’s sake. But where does

I’m trying, really trying, to

me, as if reading my thoughts. “She’ll realize you’re making

that you’re putting her

in, worming its way into my mind despite my wolf’s reassurance. What if

mistakes? What if I’m forever labeled

who broke her heart?