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 face

the pent-up frustration, the hours of

of swallowing my pride—it all comes rushing to the surface like a tidal

That’s it.

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

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

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

down

more to myself than anyone else, and storm

through the back door into the alley, my 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 if it

fill the gaping

the hell am I doing? All of this, swallowing

for her. For Abby.

of it all, I want her back in

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

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

want to break free, to tell John to shove it, to tell Abby

Because deep down, as much as it galls me to admit it,

right, to prove that I’m

the cold, unforgiving wall of the alley, still wrestling with the storm

not from my human side,

shares my consciousness.

breath, trying to soothe the

voice echoes in my head,

have to push through it for

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

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

know you do. It’ll

though?” I ask. “It feels like she’ll

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

neck out, be the bigger man and tolerate John

until Abby sees that I’m trying, really trying, to be

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

you’re putting her needs above

its way into my mind despite my

What if I’m forever labeled the screw-up,

who broke her heart?