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

All the pent-up frustration, the hours of biting

comes rushing to the surface

That’s it.

shaking with barely contained fury. I shoot one last

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

I’m now met with

deep, ragged breath, I throw my apron down onto

air,” I growl, more to myself than

door into the alley, my chest

it, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs as

fill the gaping void inside

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

For Abby. Because despite

frustration of it all, I want

slowly as I stare up at the

stark reminder of how confined I feel,

much as I want to break free, to tell John

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

things right, to prove that I’m not the same

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

me. A deep growl resonates from within, not from my human side, but from the wolf

shares my consciousness.

breath, trying to

voice echoes in

on purpose. You just have to push through it for

I reply silently, a conversation taking

wants me to do this, to prove I can be

you do. It’ll just be for a while longer,

I ask. “It

question I’ve been asking myself ever since I

out, be the bigger man and tolerate

trying, really trying, to

as if reading my thoughts. “She’ll realize

putting her needs above your

way into my mind despite my

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

who broke her heart?