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 flushed with

pent-up frustration, the

of swallowing my pride—it all comes rushing to

That’s it.

my hands shaking with barely

she’s gone. Where

a bit, I’m now met with nothing but

throw my apron down onto the counter. “Cook the

myself than anyone else, and storm out of the

back door into the alley, my chest heaving. The cold night air stings

light it, drawing the smoke deep into my

fill the gaping void

lean against the brick wall, my mind reeling. What the

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

of it all, I want her back in

up at the sliver of night

a stark reminder of how confined I feel, boxed in by my own choices, my own

break free, to tell John to shove

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

make things right, to prove that I’m

the cold, unforgiving wall of

resonates from within, not from my human side, but from the

shares my consciousness.

is it now?” I murmur under my breath, trying to soothe the restless animal

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

purpose. You just have

silently, a conversation taking place entirely

can be

you do. It’ll just be

“It

been asking myself ever since I walked out of

be the bigger man and tolerate John for Abby’s sake. But where does

I’m trying, really trying, to be

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

putting her needs

doubt creeps in, worming its way into my mind despite my wolf’s reassurance. What if

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

who broke her heart?