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

the pent-up frustration, the hours of biting my

comes rushing to the surface like

That’s it.

my hands shaking with barely contained fury.

that she’s gone. Where her beautiful face would

I’m now met with nothing but a

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

than anyone else, and storm

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

a cigarette and light it, drawing the smoke deep into my lungs

gaping void inside

What the hell

all for her. For

I

drag, exhaling slowly as I stare up at the sliver of night sky

of how confined I feel, boxed in by

as much as I want to break free, to tell John to shove

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

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

unforgiving wall of the alley, still

from within, not from my

shares my consciousness.

my breath,

in my head, clear as

You just have to push through it for a little

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

can be part of her world. But I f

It’ll just be for a while

ask. “It feels like

since I walked out of Abby’s office earlier

my neck out, be the bigger man and tolerate John for

trying, really trying, to

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

putting her needs

into my

if I’m forever

who broke her heart?