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,

the pent-up frustration,

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

That’s it.

my apron off, my hands shaking with barely contained fury.

before, only to realize that she’s gone. Where her

bit, I’m now met

ragged breath, I throw my apron down

growl, more to myself than

alley, my chest heaving. The cold night air stings my face,

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

gaping void

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

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

frustration of it all, I want her back in my

I stare up

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

John

down, as much as it galls me to admit it, I know that

to prove that I’m not the same guy

of the alley,

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

shares my consciousness.

now?” I murmur under my breath, trying to

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

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

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

wants me to do this, to prove I can be part

do. It’ll just be for a

I ask. “It feels like she’ll never

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

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

trying, really trying, to be the man she wants

see,” my wolf reassures me, as if reading

putting her needs above your

into my mind despite my wolf’s reassurance.

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

who broke her heart?