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 face

All the pent-up frustration, the hours of biting my

all comes rushing to the surface like a

That’s it.

apron off, my hands shaking with barely contained fury.

realize that she’s

met with nothing but a

a deep, ragged breath, I throw my apron down onto the

than anyone else, and

door into the alley, my chest heaving. The cold night air stings my face, but

a cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke deep

fill the gaping void inside

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

John’s relentless cr ap—it’s all for her. For Abby.

frustration of it all, I

slowly as I stare up at

a stark reminder of how confined I feel, boxed in by my

as much as 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, I know

things right, to prove that I’m

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

me. A deep growl resonates from within, not from my human side, but from

shares my consciousness.

murmur under my breath,

voice echoes in my head, clear as

on purpose. You just have to push

I reply silently, a conversation taking place entirely within

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

It’ll just be for

it, though?” I ask. “It feels like she’ll never

myself ever since I walked out of Abby’s office

man and tolerate John for Abby’s sake.

until Abby sees that I’m trying, really trying, to be the man she wants me

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

that you’re putting her needs

worming its way into my mind

past my old mistakes? What if I’m forever labeled the screw-up, the black sheep,

who broke her heart?