Page 117 of The Good Boys Club

Would they buy that? And if so, for how long?

Around six p.m. we loaded all the food into the mobile kitchens—essentially converted campervans—and drove to Howling Pines. The trucks were parked in an arc of three just outside the marquee, each one serving a different main. We also set up a table inside the tent with all the sweets and deserts on.

One of the attendees owned a local orchard and had brought over several barrels of cider. Each was labelled with the various apple varieties used and the date the juice was transferred to the fermentation barrels. I guessed tonight we were getting cider-pissed. He’d also brought non-alcoholic fruit juice for the kids, though Mash told me anyone over the age of fourteen would be sneaking the hard stuff.

The chefs milled about, chatting at the entrance until party guests began returning from their hunt, then we split into three groups and sequestered ourselves into one of the trucks. Clem pulled me into the baked-potato van with her.

“You still have to have your ears and tail, but we’ll have fun together. I can tell you all about what Mash was like as a kid. Andthen at about nine, or whenever we run out of food, we’ll join the party.”

My heart flipped over. Okay, hearing stories about Mash’s youth was exactly what I needed right now.

“Mash’ll be one of the last wolves to arrive, though,” Clem said, opening a bottle of soda for me and then one for herself. “He loves the Harvest shift because they don’t fish or hunt, they forage, and he gets to show off his vast knowledge of nature and mushrooms.”

“Oh.”

Nobody told me they were foraging. I could have gone . . . but on second thoughts, I would have missed out on the cooking, which I enjoyed. Like, super amounts. And I would have let Clem down. I was really going to miss her and her kitchen and the one-hundred-strong gaggle of hungry wolves.

I would return to Remy and I wouldn’t even have Mash to cook for any more. Just me. How sad was that?

We spent the next hour and twenty dishing out potatoes. Popping one in a cardboard tray, slicing it open and pulling the flesh apart, scooping the bean mixture into the centre, and asking “Cheese?”

We started to get repeat customers, yet still no Mash. All the while Clem told me stories from their youths. Like the time the Cassidy clan were playing hide and seek and Mash climbed the giant oak in the grounds—pretty sure the one we kissed in the other week—and nobody could find him all night. The next day they had to send out a search party, and the fire brigade had to haul his three-year-old butt from the tallest of branches. Or the time Mash ate an entire cake after coming home drunk and high. He hadn’t been able to focus his eyes long enough to read theHappy 70th birthday Alphaiced onto the top. Or the time Mash and Zach had a full-on punch up in the car park of the local supermarket.

“It was because of you, actually,” Clem said. “Zach wouldn’t stop singing Mash and Cian sitting in a tree. Mind you, he was about twenty-eight.”

A wolf approached the hatch. She was in her thirties, very pretty, lots of eyeliner.

“Cheese?” I said, now out of habit.

“Has anyone said no to cheese?” she asked.

“Not y—”

“Oh my gods, Sam! How are you?” Clem said to the newcomer. “When did you get back?” Before Sam could answer, Clem turned to me. “Sam moved to Gwindur. She’s Mash’s first ever—no scrap that—his only girlfriend.”

I dropped the scoop into the cheese, sending a confetti of cheddar flying in every direction. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Well,” Sam laughed. “We were never really like that. I got back Tuesday. This’ll be my first big Harvest Fest in about six years. Have you seen Mash by any chance? It’d be nice to catch up with him.”

“This is Cian,” Clem said, instead of answering Sam’s question. “Mash’s mate.”

“Holy shit!” she said, slapping her hands down to her sides.

“Right?” Clem said.

“Mash mated? I never thought I’d see the day.” Sam turned to me. “How did you do it? How did you pin him down?”

I didn’t know how to answer her, so I shrugged and laughed in a way which I hoped sounded less dumbstruck and nervous than I felt.

“Oh, look, there he is,” Clem said, pointing to a gap in the trees where Mash was emerging with Sean, Felix, and Juno.

Sam raised her eyebrows. “Thanks. Hey, nice to meet you, Cian.” She picked up her baked potato and walked over to him.

I could do nothing but watch this gorgeous creature totter over to my best friend. My best friend, who I was totally obsessedwith and pretending not to be, whilst also pretending to be his boyfriend, whilst also pretending every time we fucked each other’s mouths wasn’t the single greatest moment of my life and simultaneously tearing me apart inside.

Sam wore a sheer black blouse, her bra straps visible between the long silky strands of her dark hair, a knee-length fishtail leather skirt, and black heels. Those iconic, slutty ones with red soles.

My stomach churned. Dee-Dee no longer occupied any space in my thoughts for jealousy. That camp had been firmly claimed by Sam.

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