Page 136 of The Good Boys Club

“I need to go.”

“Go where?” I said, but he was already turning in the other direction and walking away. I took a few steps towards him. “Where are you going, Mash? Mash?”

“Don’t follow me. Please, Bangers, I just need to be alone.” And then, without waiting for my response, he ran.

I watched him disappear into the trees and then I walked back to the house. There was no way to tell what time it was. I guessed somewhere between eleven and midnight. The lights were on in the kitchen and sitting room, where undoubtedly Rita, the elder wolves, and the much younger cubs were camped out.

I didn’t want to disrupt any of them, so I nudged Mash’s bedroom window open with my snout and threw myself inside onto the bed. Immediately back in my human form, I closed the window and pulled the lock across on the bedroom door.

Then I showered, dressed, and packed my bags.

Knot Today, Satan

Present Day

Mash

It was September after the full moon, so of course I woke up with a stiff neck, shivering, naked, and with a rumbling stomach at the top of the ravine. I peeled my eyes open one by one. Cian wasn’t there, which would explain why I was so cold. Perhaps he’d woken before me and gone for a piss.

I twitched my ears in all directions but heard nothing—no peeing sounds, no footsteps on the substrate—only the not-too-distant call of a collared dove, and the slightly more distant thwunking of a woodpecker.

I sat up. Where was he?

Fuck, I wished I could remember what happened last night. Did we fuck? Did we fight? Did I try to bite him? Shit, did I succeed?

Tentatively, I touched my naked asshole. It was dry and not sore. We hadn’t fucked. So why wasn’t he here?

I got to my feet.“BANGERS?!”

Nothing. No response. I ran my fingers through my hair, scraped them down my face. Dried blood flaked away. No deer corpse, though.

Please, please let that be deer blood.

My hands were filthy, and my body covered in mud. I decided to walk back to the marquee. If I didn’t seen Cian by the time I’d dressed, I would send out a search party.

He’s fine. He’s okay. Nothing to worry about. He’s not hurt. I just had to tell myself this a million more times.

The cubby with my name on it housed only my clothes, folded neatly into a little pile with my shoes at the bottom. He’d been here already and removed his things.

My shoulders dropped, a sigh of relief eased from my chest. He was unharmed. Probably needed to get some proper food or . . . maybe he had to wash the crusty blood from his face. He’d never been great at tolerating dirt.

He was back home showering, or cooking, or napping on clean sheets. I was sure of it. I pulled my underwear on, grabbed the rest of my clothes, and jogged to the house.

Nana and Mam were in the kitchen already. Nana sat at the table with a glass of orange juice, and Mam stood next to thestove, bacon sizzling in a pan. My stomach growled furiously at me. I ignored it and continued to my room.

The second I stepped through the door, I knew everything was wrong. His smell still lingered, but it was somehow absent. Lost. Like it was falling away from me. Like a dream minutes after waking, or the imprint of a camera flash on your retinas, or a footprint in the sand under the swelling tide.

Cian wasn’t here, and neither were any of his things.

His books were missing from the nightstand. His toothbrush from the pot. His hipster cedar shampoo bar from the shower. His clothes from the wardrobe and drawers. His suitcase from under the bed. HisC.C.wooden chopping board that Mam had made him.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What had happened last night?

“He’s gone,” I said, barrelling into the kitchen, still in my underpants, dried blood still covering my face. “He’s gone.” I was crying.

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