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

pent-up frustration, the hours of biting my tongue, the

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

That’s it.

my hands shaking with barely

she’s gone. Where

bit, I’m now met with

down onto the counter.

myself than anyone

door into the alley, my chest

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

gaping void

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

cr ap—it’s all for her. For Abby.

frustration of it all, I want her back in

take another drag, exhaling slowly as I stare up at the sliver of night sky visible between the

how confined I feel, boxed

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

much as it galls me

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

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

inside me. A deep growl resonates from within, not from

shares my consciousness.

murmur under my breath,

in my head, clear as day.

You just have to push through

reply silently, a conversation taking place entirely within

be

do. It’ll just

though?” I ask. “It feels like she’ll never

I walked out

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

I’m trying, really trying, to be the

wolf reassures me, as if reading my thoughts.

you’re putting her

way into my mind despite my wolf’s

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

who broke her heart?