Epilogue
Michael
Dean’s having a nightmare. Again.
I’ve seen it so many times, I’ve almost got it broken down beat by beat.
“No,” he whispers. “Please, somebody help.”
A mournful whine leaves his throat.
“Where—where are you taking her?”
This is usually when the tears start.
“No. No. No,” he whispers again.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Troy: Party next weekend! It’s a holiday party and a we got a new house party and a we’re quitting the business party.
Adam: And a moving party so wear sturdy clothes.
Wes: Why did I get added to this group chat?
Troy: Because you’re a whore now too, Kitten. Our whore.
Ravi: Wes! Hi!! Liam wants to talk to you. To thank you for taking care of something I think? Something about trash removal
Fallon: Guys I’m begging you. Do not talk to my brother that way where I can see or hear it.
Wes: Karma, brother. For all those times I walked in on you and PJ fucking.
PJ: Won’t happen if you don’t visit, Wes. Problem solved!
Idiots.
I silence my notifications and return the phone to my back pocket. Just in time for?—
“No!” Dean shoots up into a sitting position, his eyes flying open in the middle of the scream.
At first he doesn’t notice me standing here by his bed. His gaze is unfocused. Sightless. His breath saws in and out, ragged and loud.
He runs his hands through his blond curls before falling back to the mattress.
His head hits the pillow with a quiet thump.
One hand presses against his chest, as if he can keep his heart from flying out.
Right now I know it’s going a mile a minute, and he’s willing it to calm down.
He’s got his eyes squeezed shut, as if he can make what he just saw disappear by hoping hard enough.
“Bad dream?”
“Fuck.” His eyes fly open again. Tears cling to his lashes as he studies me in the glow of the little cat night-light his daughter picked out for him. “Mike.”
He stares at me.
I stare at him.
For a minute he holds out on me, even though we both know he’ll crack first. We both know what he’s going to do.
Sure enough, he slides over to the far side of the double bed, pulling the sheets back as he goes. He’s wearing a loose pair of basketball shorts and nothing else. Orange. I hate the color orange.
“Those shorts are ugly.”
“School colors,” he murmurs. “You know that.”
“Take them off.”
He hesitates. Why does he even bother?
“Dean. You want me to make it better, don’t you?”
A long, tired sigh. “You know I do.”
“Then take the shorts off.”
They snag on his erection as he pushes them down and kicks them to the floor. I love that he’s already hard.
I love that when he wakes up in tears, he reaches for me like I’m the one who can save him. Or ruin him.
Most days I’m not sure which I want to do more.
Maybe I just want to ruin myself. For hating him. For wanting him. Not that I’ll ever give in to that want. Neither of us deserve it.
“You need to earn it.”
His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. “I know.”
“But you still want it.”
“Yes.”
“You need it.” Not a question. We both know.
“Yes.”
“Beg me.”
“Please, Michael.”
“You don’t deserve it.”
“I know I don’t deserve it.”
“Tell me how much you owe me.”
“I owe you everything.”
“That’s right.”
When he reaches for me again, I pull away, moving around to stand by the foot of the bed. He’s too tall, so his feet hang off the end. His daughter sleeps on a queen mattress with her favorite princess blanket down the hall. In the primary bedroom.
Dean will sacrifice anything for her. As he should. As if it absolves him of anything.
“Hands and knees,” I tell him.
Long legs tangle in mismatched thrift shop sheets in his rush to comply. He slides to the floor, balls his hands into fists, bracing. Head bowed. Waiting.
He’s not an athlete anymore, not the way he used to be, but he still keeps in shape.
So it takes a while before his arms start to shake with the effort of holding himself up.
Until the muscles in his back and shoulders start to bunch.
Until he’s whining for a reason that has nothing to do with his nightmare.
“Mike. Please.” He whines again.
But you know what he’s not doing? He’s not thinking about the dream. He’s not thinking about her .
Neither of us is.
When the tremors in his arms get stronger, when he looks like he can barely hold on, is when I finally let him move.
“Good boy,” I say. “Now crawl.”
THANK YOU for reading DUBIOUS!! I hope you loved this dark MMM romance. Find out what happens next with Michael and Dean in Payback .
Dean
Everything I do is for my daughter. Everything. Including working as a male escort to support us both.
I may be a dumb white trash college dropout with zero marketable skills, but as a former athlete I can make good money from my body, and I can give my little girl the life I didn’t have.
There’s one big problem, and that problem is my daughter’s uncle. Michael hates me. He has every reason to. It’s my fault his sister, my kid’s mom, is dead.
But I can’t raise her alone. Ella needs her uncle. We both do.
So, I’ll do anything it takes to keep him around.
Anything.
Michael
Dean was supposed to be mine.
But he ended up with my sister, and now she’s gone.
He’s my connection to my niece, but there’s so much toxicity between us now.
Around other people, we get along for the greater good. When it’s only the two of us though?
Well, I’m enjoying making him pay.