Seb’s Summer by K.C. Wells

Dylan’s Dilemma (Maine Men Book 4)

 

Chapter One

Explore. Dream. Discover.

Simple enough instructions that weren’t so easy to put into practice.

Three little words that had been echoing in Dylan Martin’s head ever since Marcus Gilbert had uttered them a mere two hours before.

Three little words that prevented Dylan’s brain from shutting down, no matter how badly he wanted to sleep.

Three little words he yearned to embrace.

After he’d lain awake in bed for about an hour, Dylan gave up on the idea of sleep. It just wasn’t happening. Shaun was out like a light, and from the other couch came the sound of Levi and Noah’s mingled breathing, deep and even.

Dylan envied them. They’d all hit the sack about two o’clock, and he reckoned the others had fallen asleep within minutes.

He knew exactly what was keeping his brain from shutting down.

He eased himself out from under the sheets, grabbed his phone from the coffee table, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Once inside, he closed the door, then headed for the fridge. He peered at the bottles of water and cans of soda, eventually settling on a bottle of iced tea. Marcus’s words played on a loop in his head, and he found himself dissecting and analyzing them.

Love truly. Dylan was honest enough to admit he’d never done that. There had been infatuations, crushes, sure, but love? That one had so far eluded him.

Forgive quickly. Dylan wasn’t one for holding a grudge—except for when it came to his family, and God knew, they’d done nothing to warrant his forgiveness.

Kiss slowly. That made him smile. Is there any other way?

Laugh uncontrollably. The guys never failed to make him smile, and they’d shared a lot of laughs throughout the years, but as for uncontrollably? When was the last time I laughed till I cried?

Never regret anything that made you smile. Most of Dylan’s regrets were centered on stuff he hadn’t done. And wasn’t that what Marcus was trying to say? About which regret was better to live with?

Watching Finn, Ben, and now Seb find their own portion of happiness should have made him happy, but instead what ate him up was envy, and he hated that. It made him feel mean-spirited and unclean.

So what if they’ve found someone? It doesn’t mean their lives are better than mine, right? Or that they’re having more fun than I am?

Deep down, that was exactly how it felt, and he loathed himself for even thinking that way.

He sat at the small kitchen table, the opened bottle before him, staring at the velvet blackness that pressed against the window. When the sounds first reached his ears, Dylan wasn’t certain what he was hearing, until he realized the kitchen window was open, and Ben and Wade were sleeping in a tent in the back yard.

Except they weren’t sleeping.

Dylan told himself it was wrong. He shouldn’t have been listening to Wade making love to his friend, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was obvious who was doing what, but it wasn’t the whispered instructions that sent a tide of heat crawling up Dylan’s bare chest, reaching his neck, and finally his face.

It was the soft sounds of two men enjoying each other, lost in their own little world, and it was hotter and more intimate than anything Dylan had encountered.

Stop this.

He got up from his chair, crept over to the window, and quietly closed it, shutting out the erotic soundtrack. He glanced at his phone on the table.

I shouldn’t.

Why not? They’re all asleep. They won’t know.

Dylan scrolled to find his favorite site, knowing precisely what he was searching for. Except it was more of a who. He typed a name into the search field, his heart beating rapidly. When he saw a new upload, his heart pounded so hard, he felt sure everyone in the house could hear it.

There was a new Mark Roman video, and Dylan had left his earbuds in the living room. Fuck. He switched the phone to silent and clicked on the video.

Autopilot was still engaged as he reached into his shorts and curled his hand around his stiffening cock, his gaze locked on the screen. He propped his phone up on its side against the salt and pepper shakers, and shoved his shorts past his hips.

Mark was on a king bed, lying on his back, stroking his thick shaft, and his sexy smile made something quiver in Dylan’s belly.

That is one hot man.

Dylan could have described Mark with his eyes closed. He’d stared so many times at Mark’s up-swept hair, longer on top with a hint of highlights, but short on the side, mostly silver. Those cool blue eyes seemed to peer right into Dylan’s soul. His goatee was peppered with silver too, and there was a hint of stubble along his firm jawline. His abs spoke of Mark’s dedication to looking good, as did the curve of his arms and the swell of his pecs.

Don’t forget that tattoo. Just seeing the words Fuck Me on Mark’s firm ass cheek was enough to give Dylan palpitations.

The camera angle changed, and Dylan’s cheeks burned as he watched Mark’s screen partner give head. The camera gave the perfect view down Mark’s torso to his dick that glistened as the other guy took him deep, and Dylan’s cock ached as Mark pumped his hips, thrusting up into the guy’s mouth.

Would it feel all that different to a girl’s mouth?

It wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to him, and he doubted it would be the last. The guy was clearly relishing his task, and even with no sound, it was hot as fuck. What made it hotter was their reflection in the mirror behind him.

Then he heard the quiet snick of a door, and he yanked up his shorts and exited the video, his heart racing. He breathed deeply, forcing calm into the turbulence.

Shaun poked his head around the door, then came into the room. “Couldn’t you sleep?” he whispered. He closed the door behind him.

“I thought you were dead to the world.”

“Bad dream.” Shaun shivered.

Dylan gestured to the bottle in front of him. “There’s iced tea, soda and water if you’re interested.”

Shaun went over to the fridge and removed a bottle of water, then joined him at the table.

Dylan studied him. “You were very quiet tonight.” It didn’t take a genius to work out why.

Shaun focused on his bottle. “Yeah. Things…. things aren’t good right now. Jesus, I was so torn about this weekend. I haven’t been away from Dad since Grammy’s birthday party in June, and you have no idea how much I needed this. But at the same time…” He swallowed. “Not that he’ll realize I’ve been gone.”

“Is it that bad?” Dylan knew very little about dementia.

“I think he’s reached stage six. I wasn’t sure how long it would be before we got there, but it kinda came at us like a Mack truck.”

“What’s stage six?”

Shaun sighed. “You don’t want to hear about this.”

“Maybe not, but it seems to me that you need to talk about it. And I bent your ear enough times when we were growing up, so I think I can be here for you now.” Shaun and the others had been Dylan’s lifeline, his refuge from the passive-aggressive prison he’d lived in.

Not that I knew back then what passive-aggressive even meant. Realization had come later.

Shaun took a long drink of water before speaking. “I know more about dementia than I ever wanted to. There are seven stages, and six of them all have the words cognitive decline in their title. The thing is, there’s no rhyme or reason as to how fast a person moves between stages. So many factors have to be taken into account.” Another drink. “He’d been at stage five for a long time. That was when he needed help dressing and bathing. That was also when I employed the first in-home nurse.”

“Didn’t you tell us about his new in-home nurse? It’s a guy, right?”

Shaun nodded. “Nathan. He’s great. I couldn’t cope without him.”

“So what’s different about stage six?”

Shaun’s face tightened. “Then, he was getting more and more confused or forgetful. But now…Dad’s not sleeping well. He gets into these… loops of obsessive behavior, like when he wants to tell me about something that happened forty years ago when he was a teenager, but he tells the same story over and over.” He swallowed. “He has these bursts of paranoia, and he won’t listen when I tell him everything’s fine. It feels like he’s always worrying about something. And…” There was pain in Shaun’s eyes, and Dylan’s heart ached to see it. “Last week, he… he looked right at me and said ‘Who are you?’” He lowered his gaze. “This is what they call Severe Cognitive Decline, and suddenly we’re only one step away from Very Severe. And when that happens…”

Dylan couldn’t speak. There was nothing he could say to ease Shaun’s suffering, and he didn’t want to offer trite words. His face tingled.

I’m sitting here, worrying if I’m missing out on stuff, and meanwhile, Shaun is going through hell. It put Dylan’s feelings into sharp relief.

“How about we try to get some sleep?” he suggested. “Because you know Aaron will be up with the birds, making breakfast and demanding we all get out of bed. And then it’ll be no time at all before Seb is grilling up a storm for lunch.”

Shaun’s sad smile made his stomach clench. “I wasn’t sure about staying for lunch, to be honest. We’ll see. But you’re right. We should try to get a few hours’ sleep.”

Dylan picked up his phone and followed him out of the kitchen, both of them creeping into the living room. He climbed beneath the sheets, and Shaun got in on the other side. On impulse, Dylan reached across and found Shaun’s arm. He squeezed it.

“I know there’s nothing I can say that will make your situation any better,” he whispered, “but… if you ever need me—whether it’s just a chat on the phone, or even a hotel room for the night when you need a break—I’m here for you. Okay?”

Shaun’s hand covered his. “Thanks, man. I really do appreciate it.”

Dylan lay on his back, listening to the change in Shaun’s breathing as he finally fell asleep. Poor guy. Shaun had a hard row to hoe: once his dad had started down this path, they’d all known it was going to be a downward slope, one that would lead to an unhappy ending. And all they could do was be there for him.

His mind went back to the video he’d been watching. Something about it niggled him, and for the life of him, he couldn’t work out what felt odd. In exasperation, he reached down to the floor where he’d left his phone, then pulled the sheets over his head: he didn’t want its light to wake the others.

Dylan pulled up the video again, starting from the beginning. It was only when Mark stood to fuck his partner that he realized exactly what had messed with his head, and he gaped at the screen.

They shot this in my hotel. I know that room.

 

 

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