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 face flushed

All the pent-up frustration,

swallowing my pride—it all comes rushing to the surface

That’s it.

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

she’s

now met with nothing but a

throw my apron down onto the

I growl, more to myself than

back door into the alley, my chest heaving. The

cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke deep into my

the gaping void inside

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

her. For

of it all, I want her back in

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

stark reminder of how confined I feel, boxed

to tell John

as it galls me to admit it, I know

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

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

inside me. A deep growl resonates from within, not

shares my consciousness.

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

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

on purpose. You just have to push through

silently, a conversation taking place entirely within

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

It’ll

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

since I walked out of Abby’s office earlier today. Sure, I

be the bigger man and tolerate John for

trying, really trying, to be the man she wants me to

as if

that you’re putting her

doubt creeps in, worming its way into my

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

who broke her heart?