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

words out, his face flushed with

the pent-up frustration, the

comes rushing to the surface like

That’s it.

apron off, my hands shaking with barely contained fury. I shoot

only to realize that she’s gone. Where her beautiful

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

throw my apron down onto

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

chest heaving. The cold night air stings my face, but

pull out a cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke

fill the gaping

against the brick wall, my mind reeling. What the hell am I doing?

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

I want her

another drag, exhaling slowly as I stare up at the sliver of night

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

John

much as it galls me to admit it, I know that this

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

cold, unforgiving wall of

growl resonates from within, not

shares my consciousness.

under my breath, trying to soothe the restless animal

my wolf’s voice echoes in my head, clear as day. “This John guy,

just have to push

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

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

It’ll just be

I ask. “It feels

asking myself ever since I walked out of Abby’s

out, be the bigger man and tolerate John

trying, really trying, to be

my wolf reassures me, as if reading my thoughts. “She’ll realize

you’re putting her needs above your

worming its way into my

mistakes? What if I’m forever labeled the screw-up, the black sheep, the

who broke her heart?