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

me snaps. All the pent-up frustration,

all comes rushing to the

That’s it.

yank my apron off, my hands shaking with barely

to realize that she’s gone. Where her beautiful face would

met with

my apron down onto the counter. “Cook

growl, more to myself than

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

feel it. I pull out a cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke deep

the gaping

wall, my mind reeling. What the hell

her. For Abby. Because despite

it all, I want her back in

another drag, exhaling slowly as I stare up at the sliver

confined I feel, boxed in by

as I want to break free, to tell John

much as it galls me

last chance to make things right, to prove that I’m

cold, unforgiving wall of the

from within, not from my

shares my consciousness.

breath, trying to soothe the restless animal

voice echoes in my head, clear as day. “This John guy, he’s

buttons on purpose. You just have to push through it for a little

reply silently, a conversation taking place entirely within

I can be part

“I know you do. It’ll just be for a while longer,

“It

since I walked out of

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

really trying, to be

as if reading my

her

creeps in, worming its way into my mind despite my wolf’s reassurance. What if

What if I’m forever labeled the

who broke her heart?