Page 144 of The Good Boys Club

“What the hell?”

It did the same on the second try.

The third try, it didn’t even bother whining or lighting up, justpfftedat me.

“Petrol!” I hadn’t refuelled the car since we arrived here eight weeks ago. Ferrying us back and forth to Clem’s had obviously used more gas than I’d first calculated.

Okay, think. Taking my average driving speed into account, and the time I’d been on the road, I reckoned I was about twenty miles out of Lykos, and about twenty-six miles from Howling Pines. If I remembered correctly, there was a petrol station, maybe five to ten miles south. The sensible thing would be to walk to the garage and buy a jerry can, but how long would that take? I needed to get back to Howling Pines . . . back to Mash.

I wanted to be there when he showed up at the marquee. To apologise for not being beside him when he woke. To explain everything. Help him wash the forest from his tired body. Feed him. Feed all his family.

I already missed being in Clem’s kitchen.

One quick glance around my surroundings told me I was completely alone. I removed my boots and placed them in the footwell of the passenger side, and tucked my socks inside them. The cold asphalt bit into the bare soles of my feet. Next to go was my jumper—I folded it up on the seat—then my trousers. Another look around and off came my pants, my watch, my glasses. At the last minute, I remembered my beanie. I slipped my phone and wallet into the folds of my clothes so passersby wouldn’t have easy pickings. I locked the car, found a rock nearby and hid my car key underneath it.

Under the rock by the oak tree. Under the rock by the oak tree,I said in my head.

And then I shifted.

Fur-ever Yours

Present Day

Mash

There was only one road from Lykos to Borderlands. Cian could take no other route.

He was a sensible guy, made sensible decisions, worked a respectable, grownup job. Lived in a clutter-free apartment in a conservative non-party neighbourhood. Owned a practicalfamily-man car, which he always drove super cautiously. He might have been fuelled by whichever emotion led him to flee—anger, sadness, desperation—but he was still gonna drive like a grandpa in a vintage classic.

Conversely, Mam drove as though she’d stolen the Moona Lisa and the cops were hot on our tails. Or like she’d swallowed a kilo of laxatives and the only toilet was wherever Cian was.

We would catch him up; I felt certain of it. We were five or six miles outside the township, barrelling down the country road. At its widest you might squeeze two cars side by side, but for the most part you had to pull over to let another vehicle pass in the other direction. There’d be no missing him.

I had zero signal on my phone, but even so, I periodically dialled his number. I only ever got a high-pitchedeeeeeeeesound in return.

The cab was stuffy, Mam’s truck too old for air con. I rolled the window down.

“What are you going to say when you find him?” Dee-Dee asked, calm and unruffled despite the hair-raising U-bend Mam turned down. Both Clem and I braced our hands on the ceiling as the wheels lifted into the air and we rose from the asphalt. The tyres hit the ground again, and we slammed into our seats, smashing my tail into the seat pad and rattling the bones in my face.

Mam really needed to get her suspension looked at.

I spared a glance at the odometer, ten miles into the journey. How far could Cian have driven? I tried to work out his average speed and the time he left the coffee shop, but my brain was too fuzzy.

“Not sure really,” I said, to answer Dee’s question. “I haven’t figured it out yet.” Even though I’d thought of nothing else since waking alone.

“Just tell him how you feel,” Clem said. “I’ve gotten to know him over the past few months, and he loves you, Mash. In more ways than I think either of you realise.”

“I vote you kidnap him,” Mam said. She honked her horn as she turned the truck into a blind bend without slowing.

“Mam!?” I braced my arm against the ceiling and shot Mam the most disapproving look I could muster. She simply shrugged in return.

Clem and I looked at Dee. “Weeell . . .” Dee said, drawing out the word. “If I’ve learned anything about success in business, it’s that you don’t let these types of opportunities pass you by. Not saying kidnap him, but you shouldn’t let him leave without throwing everything you have at it. Tell him everything. Everything. Cut your chest open and hand him your heart. You might feel that because you’ve known each other so long you don’t need to communicate, he’ll just know, but you can’t take that for granted any more. It’s often the people we know best who are the ones we say the least to. Bare everything to him, and let him make—”

“Wait!” I said. Mam flinched, but continued assaulting the road with her punishing pace. “Sorry, Dee.” I didn’t mean to interrupt her, but I’d caught something on the breeze, flitting through my open window. “I can smell him.”

If I could scent him, it meant he was close by, driving with his own windows down—but he had air con, so that wasn’t likely. So why could I smell him . . . ?

Oh, shit.

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