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

out, his face

pent-up frustration,

pride—it all comes rushing to the surface like a

That’s it.

hands shaking with barely

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

met with nothing but a

a deep, ragged breath, I throw my apron down onto the

I growl, more to myself than anyone

into the alley, my chest heaving. The cold night

out a cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs

gaping void inside

the brick wall, my mind reeling. What the hell am I doing?

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

frustration of it all, I want her

drag, exhaling slowly as I stare up

a stark reminder of how confined I feel, boxed in by

John to shove it, to tell

as much as it galls me to

last chance to make things right, to prove that I’m not

against the cold, unforgiving wall of the alley, still

from within, not from my human side, but

shares my consciousness.

is it now?” I murmur under my breath, trying to soothe the restless

a ss, Karl,” my wolf’s voice echoes in

on purpose. You just have

know, I know,” I reply silently, a conversation taking

to do this, to prove I can be part of

know you do. It’ll just

“It feels like

a question I’ve been asking myself ever since I

and tolerate John for Abby’s sake. But

trying, really trying, to be the man

see,” my wolf reassures me, as if reading

that you’re putting her needs above

creeps in, worming its way into my mind despite my wolf’s

I’m forever labeled the

who broke her heart?