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

spits the words out, his face flushed

the pent-up frustration, the hours

all comes rushing to the surface like a tidal

That’s it.

barely contained fury. I

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

now met with nothing but a

I throw my apron down onto the counter. “Cook the

I growl, more to myself than anyone else,

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

and light it, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs as if it

the gaping void

the hell am I doing? All of

relentless cr ap—it’s all for her. For Abby. Because despite the chaos, the humiliation,

it all, I

stare up at the sliver of night sky visible

confined I feel, boxed in by my own choices,

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

deep down, as much as it galls me to admit it, I know that this

that I’m not

the cold, unforgiving wall of the alley, still wrestling

not from

shares my consciousness.

under my breath, trying to soothe the restless animal

voice echoes in my head, clear as day.

buttons on purpose. You just have to push

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

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

snorts. “I know you do. It’ll just be for a while

ask. “It feels like she’ll never be

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

my neck out, be the bigger man and tolerate John for Abby’s sake. But where does it end?

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

me, as if reading my thoughts.

that you’re putting her needs above

its way into my mind despite my wolf’s reassurance. What

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

who broke her heart?