Page 114 of The Good Boys Club

“Ooh, I have a gift for you,” Kimmy said. She bustled into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a package wrapped in brown paper and string.

“Get Ci a present, but not your own son,” Mash said in mock indignation.

“He is my son now,” Kimmy said to Mash. She handed the parcel to me. “It’s a chopping board.” Apparently Kimmy was as good at keeping surprises as her son. “You know, because you love cooking.”

The chopping board was beautiful. Almost two-inch-thick golden wood, though I wasn’t sure what kind of tree it came from. I made a mental note to ask Mash later. It had the same diameter as a dinner plate—a werewolf dinner plate, not a human one—and a sturdy, paddle-like handle. Into the grip Kimmy had etchedC.C.with a pyrography pen.

“CC?” Mash asked.

“Cian Cassidy. You’re pack now,” Kimmy clarified.

“Mam.” Mash’s tone was a warning.

“No, it’s perfect. I love it.” I had to turn my face away and swallow the lump building in my throat. “Thank you.”

“Right, I’m going to get the kids to bed,” Clem said to everyone. She spoke to me, “Still okay to help in the kitchens tomorrow? Feast prep all day ready for the big party. It’s Harvest Moon, so that means lots of veg. No meat. You ever worked in a food truck before?”

I shook my head. Words still felt too sharp against my windpipe.

“No problem. I’ll show you the ropes. You can man the jackets with me.”

“Ooh, the jacket-potatoes truck is the best one,” Mash said, without clarifying what any of it meant.

Over the next hour, people excused themselves back to their rooms—Zach and Kai, and Mika and Atlas to their little cottages on Howling Pines land, Alba and Jade to their room at The Full Moon, and random party crashers to their trailers or tents. Mash and I went inside to his room and immediately stripped off our clothes. We didn’t make out or try to hump each other—too drunk for that, the furniture and the switched-off ceiling fan spinning too much. I placed my new chopping board on the dresser and climbed into bed.

Mash was swaying, alcoholic fumes gushing from his pores. “I love you,” he said, pulling me to his chest and wrapping his arms around me.

“I know,” I replied.

“You always say‘I know.’You could say,‘I love you too.’”

But I could only say it inside my head. The painful lump in my throat from earlier had returned.

More of a Cat Person

Five Years Earlier

Cian

My parents owned a villa on the most southern tip of the Human Realms in a little beachside village named Kuda Bay. They called it their summer house, but the entire area was unbearable between the months of June and August. The temperature wasso hot and dry that only the locals were hardy enough—or foolhardy enough—to withstand it.

Mash had recently graduated from his PhD. He was a doctor now, so to celebrate, we borrowed the keys from my parents and took a vacation in the epicentre of hell.

Mash didn’t seem to mind the searing temperatures. There was air con, which he viewed as a luxury, a private pool, a few local resorts which were open but quiet because it was the off-season, and the ocean was right there.

Despite the unendurable conditions, I enjoyed Kuda Bay for two reasons. One, Mash in swim shorts, and two, Jack Brandel.

Jack was human. Twenty-five to my nearly thirty. Practically a babe. He worked as a barman at a nearby resort, The Laguna. This was the third summer in a row we’d hooked up on the regular, and the closest—besides Mash—I’d ever come to love. We’d never said those three words to each other, but Jack had been talking about leaving Kuda Bay and coming to live in Borderlands.

I’d offered to help him sort out his visas and had said he could crash in my spare room until he found a job and his own place to live. In my mind, it would never reach that point. We’d fall in love—properly fall in love—and Jack would simply move from the guest bed into mine.

One night, Jack was sitting on my lap. We were sweaty and spent, my cock still buried in his ass while we waited for my knot to deflate enough to untangle ourselves. We were eighteen days into my twenty-one-day holiday.

“I’m going to leave it another year, I think,” Jack said while tracing the lines of my tattoos with his fingertips. “To move to Borderlands. I’m not ready. I need to build up a bit more cash. Do one last busy season here. The tips . . . the tips are just too good, and I need as much as I can get in the bank before I go. You understand, right?”

“Of course,” I said, because I did. I was disappointed, but I understood. I pulled him down to me and kissed him. “Will you still come to Remy, or go to Bordalis, or somewhere else?”

“Pretty sure Remy. You’ll be there, won’t you? And I have a few other friends who live in the city.”

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