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

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

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

That’s it.

my hands shaking with barely contained

that she’s

I’m now met with nothing but a

a deep, ragged breath, I throw my apron down onto the counter. “Cook the

some air,” I growl, more to myself than anyone

back door into the alley, my chest heaving. The

light it, drawing the

fill the gaping void inside

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

For

it all, I want her back in my

up at the sliver of night sky visible between

a stark reminder of how confined I feel,

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

I can’t. Because deep down, as much as it galls me to admit it,

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

wall of

resonates from within, not from my human side, but from

shares my consciousness.

is it now?” I murmur under my breath,

just an a ss, Karl,” my wolf’s voice echoes in my head, clear as day. “This John guy, he’s

have to push through it for a little

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

wants me to do this, to prove I can be part of her world. But

do. It’ll just be for a while

ask. “It

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

trying, really trying, to be the man she wants

me, as if reading my

her needs

its way into my mind despite my

What if I’m forever labeled the screw-up, the black sheep,

who broke her heart?