Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 62

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 crap—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.