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,

All the pent-up frustration, the hours of

rushing to the

That’s it.

barely contained fury. I shoot one last

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

met with nothing but a blank

down onto the counter. “Cook the steaks yourself, then.

air,” I growl, more to myself than anyone else,

my chest heaving. The

a cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke deep into

the gaping

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

relentless cr ap—it’s all for her. For Abby. Because

frustration of it all, I want

another drag, exhaling slowly as I stare up at

feel, boxed in by my own

much as I want to break free, to tell John to shove it, to tell Abby

I can’t. Because deep down, as much as it galls me to admit

last chance to make things right, to prove that

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

deep growl resonates from within, not

shares my consciousness.

is it now?” I murmur under my breath, trying

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

have to push through

a conversation taking place entirely

to prove I can be part of

you do. It’ll just

ask. “It feels

question I’ve been asking myself ever since I walked out

tolerate

trying, to be the

me, as if reading

putting her needs above

the doubt creeps in, worming its way into my mind despite my

my old mistakes? What if I’m forever labeled the

who broke her heart?