Page 135 of The Good Boys Club

“Fine.” Fuck, okay. “I just want to feel like I’m finally myself. Not pretending to be something else for someone else, you know?” My chest was heaving. I could stop now before the damage was done, but somehow I knew that wasn’t possible. My honesty was overdue. I couldn’t hide myself any longer.

“All my life I’ve pretended for other people,” I said. “I’ve pretended to be someone more palatable for my parents. Pretended to enjoy a job that’s slowly killing me. Pretended to be your mate—and a fucking werewolf—so you can trick your family into thinking you’re a better person than you actually are.”

“Ouch,” he said quietly. I wouldn’t backtrack, wouldn’t apologise. It was all going to come out now.

“There isn’t even any need for me to keep up this act any more. You’re staying here in Lykos. You’ll eventually get mated off and have cubs of your own. Why am I still going along with this? I should have gone back to Remy weeks ago. No. I should never have come to Howling Pines in the first place.”

He said nothing, obviously sensing more.

“I can’t keep pretending not to be in love with you, Mash. It’s killing me.”

He nodded his big wolf head. Then froze. “What?”

“You’re asking me to stay here with you? To continue pretending to be all those things. Your pretend mate, a pretend werewolf. For how long, Mash? For forever? Or until you find a real mate? Or until your pack quits trying to set you up with perfect women? You could have been happy a long time ago if you’d just listened to them.”

“No, what did you say before then?” he whispered.

“I don’t want to be only your friend, Mash. I want more. I always have.”

He puffed out a breath. Shook the rain from his fur. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you said. But you . . . you told me . . .”

“Mash?”

“I . . . I love you, man.” He was inching backwards. “But . . . I . . . I’ve been so stupid. I need to think, and . . . I . . . fuck. I can’t right now. My wolf brain is telling me to bite you and keep you here with me, and my human brain is . . . well, it’s a fucking mess at the moment. Maybe we just need time away from each other.”

“Mash, wait.” I had no idea what I wanted to say, how to communicate years of heartache and longing.

“Can I ask you something?” he said. The rain beat heavier onto our coats, splattered mud from the paths onto our paws. “Do I hold you back?”

“What, Mash . . . No, you—”

“You told me once that I held you back. That you could have been happy if it weren’t for me.”

I was gonna puke. “When? When did I say that?”

“Winter Fest. On the Howl rooftop. You told me you could have had everything you’ve ever wanted in your life if I wasn’t there holding you back.”

Fuck, had I really said those things?

“Did you mean it?” he asked.

“Mash, I was drunk. I don’t remember.” It was the wrong thing to say. But too late, it was out now.

Yes, I probably meant it. At the time. But it had never been Mash holding me back. It was always my inability to just let him go, let him live his own life. That was what was holding both of us back. My dependence on him.

“I don’t know what—” I started, but he snarled at me. Actually snarled. My instinct was to cower.

He said nothing. A few minutes stretched into an eternity, his eyes fixed on me the entire time. A low rumbling growl filled the space, mingling with the lashing rain.

And then his whole body sagged. The fight left him.

“You were right. You were always fucking right,” he said.

“Mash—”

“Well, now you can be free of me. I’m sorry I wasted the best years of your life.”

“Fucking hell, this isn’t—”

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