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

snaps. All the pent-up frustration, the

my pride—it all comes rushing to the surface

That’s it.

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

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

met with nothing but a

I throw my apron down onto the counter. “Cook

to myself than

my chest

it, drawing the smoke deep into

gaping

my mind reeling. What the hell am

her. For Abby. Because despite the chaos,

of it all, I want her back in

up at the sliver of

stark reminder of how confined I feel, boxed in

I want to break free, to tell John to shove it, to tell Abby that this is too much

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

that I’m not the same guy

against the cold, unforgiving wall of the alley, still

A deep growl resonates from within, not from

shares my consciousness.

murmur under my breath,

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

purpose. You just have to push through it for

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

wants me to do this, to prove I can be

snorts. “I know you do. It’ll just be

“It feels like she’ll

myself ever since I walked

bigger man and tolerate John

Abby sees that I’m trying, really trying, to be the man she wants me to

see,” my wolf reassures me, as if reading my thoughts.

that you’re putting her needs above

into

past my old mistakes? What if I’m forever labeled the screw-up,

who broke her heart?