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

snaps. All the pent-up frustration, the hours of

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

That’s it.

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

met

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

than anyone else, and storm

push through the back door into the alley, my chest heaving. The cold night

cigarette and light it, drawing the

fill the gaping void inside

brick wall, my mind reeling. What the

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

I want her back

slowly as I stare up at

how confined I feel, boxed in by

to tell John to

galls me to admit it, I

prove that I’m not

cold, unforgiving wall of the alley,

growl resonates from within, not from my human side,

shares my consciousness.

breath, trying to

in my head, clear as day. “This John guy, he’s

pushing your buttons on purpose. You just have to push

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

I can be part of her world. But I

It’ll just be

though?” I ask. “It feels

since I walked

my neck out, be the bigger man and tolerate John for Abby’s sake.

really trying, to be the man she

as if reading my thoughts. “She’ll realize

putting her needs above

into my mind despite my wolf’s reassurance. What

if I’m forever labeled the screw-up,

who broke her heart?