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 with

pent-up frustration, the hours of

pride—it all comes rushing to the

That’s it.

my hands shaking with barely

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

now met with nothing but a blank

my apron down onto the counter. “Cook the steaks yourself,

more to myself than anyone else, and storm out of the

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

feel it. I pull out a cigarette and light it, drawing

fill the gaping void inside

wall, my mind reeling. What the hell am I doing? All of this, swallowing my

her. For

of it all, I want her

drag, exhaling slowly as I stare up at the sliver

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

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

much as it galls me to admit

that I’m not the same guy

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

growl resonates from within, not

shares my consciousness.

breath, trying to soothe the restless animal

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

on purpose. You just have to push through

reply silently, a conversation taking

to prove I can be part of her world.

you do. It’ll just be

ask. “It feels like she’ll never be

a question I’ve been asking myself ever since I walked out of Abby’s

tolerate John for Abby’s sake. But

trying, really trying, to be the man

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

putting her needs above your

way into my mind despite my wolf’s

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

who broke her heart?