Chapter 11 #2
I frowned, following his gaze back to where Clayton sat.
Rowan was showing him how the coloring sheets were sorted, and another Little—tiny, freckled, with pigtails and a stuffed bunny in her lap—leaned over to hand him a crayon.
Clayton smiled. It was small and shy, but it was there.
Then the bunny girl dropped her juice box, and before anyone could blink, Clayton was crouched down, dabbing the spill with napkins, reassuring her it wasn’t her fault.
He didn’t even seem to think about it.
Gabriel chuckled softly. “See? Classic caretaker. His instinct isn’t to play—it’s to make sure everyone else feels safe enough to play.”
I watched as Rowan thanked him, and Clayton’s shoulders went a little straighter, pride blooming where nervousness had been. Something in my chest twisted.
“I thought he was just…being polite,” I said quietly.
“Maybe. But politeness fades when someone’s overwhelmed. That, right there, that’s instinct.” Gabriel sipped his coffee, considering me.
I rubbed the back of my neck, still watching Clayton. He’d moved to another table now, helping two Littles sort puzzle pieces by color. Every few seconds he glanced around, checking that no one else looked lost or left out.
“I don’t want to take that from him,” I murmured.
“Then don’t,” Gabriel said simply. “You’re already doing fine. You just have to recognize that caring for him doesn’t mean not letting him care for you. That balance is where the magic happens. Rowan can be very Little sometimes, but he’s also my book editor and adores it.”
I gaped and acknowledged that even though I considered myself an experienced Dom, I had a lot to learn. “I didn’t plan for any of this. I just saw a man drowning and—”
“And reached in after him,” Gabriel finished. “That’s what good Doms do. But don’t forget, caretakers need purpose. They’ll wither if they think you don’t need them.”
His words landed like a quiet truth I hadn’t known I’d been waiting for.
I thought about the way Clayton had tried to help, how restless he’d been when I told him to just sit.
The look on his face when I said I’d handle dinner.
I’d thought he was anxious about imposing—but what if that was how he showed affection?
What if denying him that made him feel useless, unwanted?
He’d cared for his mom right up to her death, and instead of his partner validating him for it, he’d rejected him.
Work had rejected him. If Gabriel was right, and to be honest, I’d no reason to think he wasn’t, what Clayton had been through in the last two years were more of a rejection of self.
No wonder he was so lost, and sweeping in and taking over like I had done was nearly the same thing. No wonder he’d bolted today.
“I might’ve gotten that wrong,” I said.
Gabriel smiled knowingly. “We all do, at first. You’ll figure it out. He’s not the first person in here who didn’t know that’s what he was. Rowan didn’t either.” He paused. “I wasn’t a Daddy in any way until I met Rowan.”
I breathed in. I’d come here with this vague notion of helping Clayton find what he was looking for, but the thought of another person helping him with that made me feel uncomfortable.
I was a Dom, not a Daddy, but then Clayton wasn’t what I thought of when I thought about Littles either. He just needed soft. He needed care.
Across the room, Clayton looked up just then, eyes seeking me out like he’d felt me thinking about him. I smiled, slow and reassuring. He smiled back. It was tentative, but real.
Gabriel’s voice softened. “See that? He’s already anchoring himself to you. Just make sure you give him something to hold on to.”
I nodded, the weight of it settling deep and steady. For the first time since this whole thing began, I didn’t feel like I was guessing anymore.
I watched Clayton for another minute—the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he lined up crayons in neat rows, sorted by shade. He wasn’t playing exactly, but he wasn’t distant either. Just calm. Grounded.
Gabriel followed my gaze and smiled. “Go on,” he murmured. “Before you overthink yourself into a knot.”
I huffed a quiet laugh and set my cup down. “Yeah, yeah.”
When I crossed the room, Clayton’s head came up. The reflexive panic flickered through his eyes like a storm cloud—there and gone before I could blink. He still thought he might be in trouble for something.
“Hey,” I said gently, crouching beside him. “You doing okay?”
He nodded, his voice soft. “It’s nice here. Peaceful.”
“Good.” I smiled. “I’m glad.”
He was sitting near a stack of coloring books and had already sorted the crayons by color family—reds in a tidy row, blues perfectly even. A few Littles had drifted over, watching with fascination as he showed them how to match shades for the sky.
Gabriel’s words echoed in my head. Caretaker submissive.
“Think you could help me with something?” I said, keeping my tone light.
Clayton blinked, startled. “Me?”
“Yeah. I could use another coffee. And maybe get some juice for you?”
He hesitated for half a second, then smiled—small, shy, but real. “Of course.”
He crossed the room with the same focused precision he’d used on the crayons, careful not to bump anyone or spill a drop. When he came back, he handed me the mug with both hands like it was something precious.
“Thank you,” I said softly, brushing my thumb over his knuckles.
“You’re welcome, sir.” His cheeks went pink, but he didn’t pull away.
I opened my mouth because being called sir didn’t feel right in this space, but Daddy seemed a huge commitment I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
One thing I definitely knew was that I couldn’t give Clayton something then take it away. That would be cruel.
He perched beside me on the couch, cradling his juice, watching the others with quiet fascination. “They’re building a fort,” he said suddenly, eyes bright. “We used to do that at the store.”
I turned to him. “At the store?”
“Yeah.” A small smile ghosted over his mouth.
“Before I got let go, I used to help with the Christmas display at Thomas and Mason. We had a Santa’s corner and everything—trains, fake snow, elves.
I used to make sure all the kids who were nervous had something to hold, like a plushie or a candy cane. It helped.”
“That sounds like hard work,” I said. And help with the Christmas display? He ran the whole thing and made them millions.
He shrugged, still smiling faintly. “I loved it. The planning, the lights, the lists. But mostly the kids. They believed in everything. Even when the line was too long or their parents were stressed, they’d still smile when they saw the tree.”
I waited for him to tell me he at least ran the team, but he didn’t, and I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised.
But then, I didn’t think it was just humility.
There was that as well, but Clayton was remembering the part that had given him joy, helping the nervous kids.
“You have a talent for that. I don’t mean being the life and soul of the party, I mean noticing the kids that are struggling.
The ones who might not fit in. I saw you with the little girl at the work party.
You involved her. It was exactly what she needed.
Her mom Anna works in payroll, and her useless husband left when he realized he was going to be caring for a disabled daughter.
” I’d done what I could to ensure Anna’s financial security, but that was it.
And the beginnings of an idea formed.
He ducked his head, embarrassed. “Maybe that’s why I like this room. It feels…quiet, even when its busy.”
I nodded slowly. “Because people can just be themselves.”
We sat together, watching as Rowan and the others built their blanket fort.
Clayton’s gaze softened, the edges of his usual reserve melting away.
One of the Littles waved him over for help tying a corner of the blanket, and without hesitation, he set down his juice and went to help, laughing softly when the fabric slipped.
He looked younger like that. Lighter. I watched as he fixed a couple of Lego pieces together when he thought no one was watching, and his fingers hovered over a drawing before they stilled. As if he was beginning to go deeper because he felt relaxed.
Gabriel came up beside me again, following my line of sight. “I'm guessing he’s both, you know,” he said quietly. “Caretaker and Little. Some are. It’s how they find balance.”
I nodded slowly, watching Clayton adjust a blanket corner just so, then grin when the fort finally held. “Makes sense,” I murmured. It also made sense with his choice of career and why he was so damn good at it.
Clayton turned just then, searching for me like he wanted to make sure I was still there. When our eyes met, he smiled—a real one this time—and I felt it settle somewhere deep and certain inside me.
I wanted to see him smile like that all the time.