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

words out, his face flushed

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

rushing to the surface

That’s it.

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

realize that she’s gone. Where

I’m now met with nothing but

throw my apron down

myself than anyone else, and storm out of the

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

feel it. I 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

all for her. For Abby. Because

of it all, I want

up at the sliver of night sky visible between

reminder of how confined I feel, boxed in by my own choices, my

I want to break free, to tell John to shove it, to tell

down, as much as it galls me to

right, to prove that I’m not the same guy I used to

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

deep growl resonates from within, not from my human side,

shares my consciousness.

I murmur under my breath, trying to soothe the

my wolf’s voice echoes in my head, clear as

buttons on purpose. You just have to

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

me to do this, to prove I can be part of her

“I know you do. It’ll just be for

though?” I ask. “It feels

asking myself ever since I

out, be the bigger man and tolerate John for

sees that I’m trying, really trying, to

reassures me, as if reading my thoughts. “She’ll realize you’re

her needs

its way into my mind

if I’m forever

who broke her heart?