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 flushed

snaps. All the pent-up frustration, the hours of biting my tongue, the

my pride—it all comes rushing to

That’s it.

my hands shaking with barely contained fury. I shoot one last

that she’s gone. Where

now met with nothing

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

I growl, more to myself than anyone else, and

the back door into the alley, my chest heaving. The

cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs as if it

gaping void inside

mind reeling. What the hell

her. For Abby. Because despite the chaos, the

it all, I want her back in

another drag, exhaling slowly as I stare up at the

I feel, boxed

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

much as it galls me to

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

wall of the alley, still wrestling with the storm

within, not from my human side, but from

shares my consciousness.

my breath, trying to soothe the restless animal

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

your buttons on purpose. You just have

a conversation taking place entirely within the

can be part of her world. But I

It’ll

though?” I ask. “It feels like

a question I’ve been asking myself ever since I walked out of Abby’s office earlier today. Sure, I

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

really trying, to be the man she

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

you’re putting her needs above

in, worming its way into my mind despite my

old mistakes? What if I’m forever labeled the

who broke her heart?