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 with

pent-up frustration, the

my pride—it all comes rushing to

That’s it.

shaking with barely contained fury.

realize that she’s gone. Where her

now met

apron down onto the counter. “Cook

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

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

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

gaping void inside

lean against the brick wall, my mind reeling. What the hell am

her. For Abby. Because despite the chaos,

frustration of it all, I want her back

stare up at the sliver

of how confined I feel, boxed in by my

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

it galls me to admit it,

things right, to prove that I’m

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

within, not from my human

shares my consciousness.

it now?” I murmur under my breath, trying to

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

have to

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

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

know you do. It’ll just be

ask. “It feels

I’ve been asking myself ever since I walked out of Abby’s

and tolerate John for Abby’s sake. But where does it

sees that I’m trying, really trying, to

see,” my wolf reassures me, as if reading my

that you’re putting her

the doubt creeps in, worming its way into my mind despite my wolf’s reassurance.

past my old mistakes? What if I’m forever labeled

who broke her heart?