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

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

of swallowing my pride—it all comes rushing to

That’s it.

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

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

I’m now met with

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

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

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

it. I pull out a cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs as

the gaping

the brick wall, my mind reeling. What the hell am I doing? All of this,

all for her. For Abby. Because despite the chaos, the

frustration of it all, I want her

exhaling slowly as I stare up at

feel, boxed in

to tell John to shove it, to

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

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

the cold, unforgiving wall of the alley,

within, not from my human side, but

shares my consciousness.

my breath, trying

voice echoes in

pushing your buttons on purpose. You just have to push

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

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

do. It’ll

“It

I walked out of Abby’s office earlier

neck out, be the bigger man and tolerate John for

I’m trying, really trying,

if reading my thoughts. “She’ll realize you’re

that you’re putting her needs above your

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

old mistakes? What if I’m forever labeled the

who broke her heart?