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

practically spits the words out, his face flushed with exasperation.

Something inside me snaps. All the pent-up frustration, the hours of biting my tongue, the soul-crushing

effort of swallowing my pride—it all comes rushing to the surface like a tidal wave.

That’s it.

I yank my apron off, my hands shaking with barely contained fury. I shoot one last look toward where

Abby was standing before, only to realize that she’s gone. Where her beautiful face would have calmed

me a bit, I’m now met with nothing but a blank wall.

With a deep, ragged breath, I throw my apron down onto the counter. “Cook the steaks yourself, then. I

need some air,” I growl, more to myself than anyone else, and storm out of the kitchen.

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

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

somehow fill the gaping void inside me.

I lean against the brick wall, my mind reeling. What the hell am I doing? All of this, swallowing my pride,

taking John’s relentless cr ap—it’s all for her. For Abby. Because despite the chaos, the humiliation, the

maddening frustration of it all, I want her back in my life.

I take another drag, exhaling slowly as I stare up at the sliver of night sky visible between the buildings.

It’s a stark reminder of how confined I feel, boxed in by my own choices, my own mistakes.

And yet, as much as I want to break free, to tell John to shove it, to tell Abby that this is too much to

ask, I can’t. Because deep down, as much as it galls me to admit it, I know that this is my last chance.

My last chance to make things right, to prove that I’m not the same guy I used to be.

I lean back against the cold, unforgiving wall of the alley, still wrestling with the storm of emotions

raging inside me. A deep growl resonates from within, not from my human side, but from the wolf that

shares my consciousness.

“What is it now?” I murmur under my breath, trying to soothe the restless animal inside me.

“He’s just an a ss, Karl,” my wolf’s voice echoes in my head, clear as day. “This John guy, he’s testing

you, pushing your buttons on purpose. You just have to push through it for a little while longer.”

“I know, I know,” I reply silently, a conversation taking place entirely within the confines of my mind.

“Abby wants me to do this, to prove I can be part of her world. But I f ucking hate it.”

My wolf snorts. “I know you do. It’ll just be for a while longer, though.”

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

It’s a question I’ve been asking myself ever since I walked out of Abby’s office earlier today. Sure, I can

stick my neck out, be the bigger man and tolerate John for Abby’s sake. But where does it end? How

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

“Abby will see,” my wolf reassures me, as if reading my thoughts. “She’ll realize you’re making an

effort, that you’re putting her needs above your own.”

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

can’t see past my old mistakes? What if I’m forever labeled the screw-up, the black sheep, the man

who broke her heart?

And then there’s Chloe, Abby’s best friend, who I’m sure is filling her head with doubts and suspicions.

The thought of Chloe whispering in Abby’s ear, poisoning her against me, gnaws at me like a persistent

itch I can’t scratch.

“Chloe has Abby’s ear,” I admit, voicing my fears to my wolf.

“And you think she’s making things worse?” my wolf probes, as insightful as ever.

“It’s a possibility,” I say, my gut clenching at the thought. “Chloe doesn’t like me. Never has. And if Abby

listens to her, then everything I’m doing, all this effort—it could be for nothing.”

My wolf is silent for a long moment, contemplating the twisted web we find ourselves entangled in.

“Then we’ll fight,” he finally says, his voice tinged with a fierce resolve. “We’ll fight for what we want, for

who we want. We’ll show Abby that we’re worth it, that we’ve changed. You have to get your mate

back.”

Easier said than done, I think bitterly. How do you prove you’ve changed when every action, every

mistake, is scrutinized through the lens of the past? How do you win back trust that’s been shattered,

love that’s been lost?

“I just don’t know if I can do it,” I confess out loud, my voice tinged with despair. “I don’t know if Abby

can ever really forgive me, if she can ever truly trust me again.”

My wolf sighs, a low rumble that vibrates through every fiber of my being. “Then I guess there’s only

one way to find out.”

I take a deep breath, the weight of my wolf’s words settling over me like a thick fog. One way to find

out, indeed.

Suddenly, just as I’m about to flick the remainder of my unfinished cigarette onto the ground and head

back inside, the kitchen door swings open.