8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
MADDOX
Gideon looked up from his computer, his brow furrowing at my agitated state. "What happened?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration and disappointment coursing through me. "Clare. The session on Saturday...it didn't go well."
Gideon leaned back in his chair, studying me. "Define 'didn't go well.'"
I sighed heavily, sinking into one of the chairs across from his desk. "It started off okay. We were coloring, talking. She even brought her old teddy bear. But then I showed her the playroom I set up, and something triggered her. She panicked and ran out."
"Shit," Gideon muttered. "Is she okay?"
I nodded. "Physically, yes. But emotionally... I don't know. She said she doesn't think this is going to work. That she can't do it."
Gideon was quiet for a moment, processing. "And how are you holding up?"
I let out a bitter laugh. "How do you think? I feel like I pushed too hard, too fast. Like I've ruined any chance of helping her."
"Maddox," Gideon said firmly, "you can't blame yourself for this. Trauma recovery isn't linear. There are always setbacks."
"I know that," I snapped, his words too close to what I’d told Clare, then immediately felt guilty. I glanced at one of my oldest friends. “Give me something to do.”
He nodded. “Actually, we did just get something in. I was just going to call everyone in and see how we wanted to proceed.” He flicked on the screen on the wall so I didn’t need to move, and saw a picture of a dark-haired twenty-something woman wearing frayed denim shorts and a t-shirt covered in yellow daisies. Her long brown hair was in pigtails at each side and tied with a pink ribbon.
“Who’s that?”
“Emily Carter. She works for children and family services, and she’s gone missing. Her mom and dad are raising hell, but the weird thing is, her contact with her parents and older sister has been practically non-existent in the past three years. On the face of things, she has a tight family, but her sister Melanie seems to be the star of the show.”
The door opened and Dion walked in, but I barely acknowledged him. I heard Gideon repeat what he’d just told me.
“What do you mean by the star?” Dion asked.
“George Carter is a lawyer. Specializes in contract law and has big business names behind him. His wife Dierdre was his personal assistant before they married, and now is a big name in Coral Gables, probably one of the wealthiest city in Florida. Their eldest daughter Melanie is also a lawyer and has followed in daddy’s footsteps.”
I stared at the picture. Emily didn’t seem like the daughter of a socialite and a top attorney, but what did I know?
“Emily Carter is a social worker, but the interesting thing is that she seems to have paid for her schooling herself, unlike Melanie, who had her daddy pay. Emily had two jobs but still has a mountain of student debt, because she pays for her own apartment as well. Incidentally, it was her roomie who initially raised the alarm about her disappearance, and the parents only got involved when the media got hold of it.”
Gideon pulled up another pic of a woman we all immediately recognized. “Is that Jennifer?” She was one of our servers.
“Yes, and she shared an apartment with Emily. She’s worried and came to me two days ago. I’ve been getting all the details so we’d know what was happening.”
“Is she a Little?” Dion asked. “Not that it matters,” he added hastily.
“Jennifer says she has grilled her about the Little nights at Salvation. Her room is full of stuffed animals, and Jennifer doesn’t know for sure, but she thinks she’s been seeing someone. Jennifer says Emily’s parents screwed her up so much she didn’t dare even tell Jennifer what was going on.”
I stared at the photo of Emily, my mind racing. A young woman, possibly a Little, estranged from her family, now missing. It had all the hallmarks of a potential trafficking situation.
"Do we have any leads on where she might be?" I asked Gideon.
Gideon shook his head. "Not yet. Her phone's been off since she disappeared three days ago. No activity on her credit cards or bank accounts either."
"What about the person Jennifer thinks she was seeing?" Dion asked.
"No details," Gideon replied. "Emily was apparently very secretive about it. Jennifer just had a hunch based on Emily's behavior."
I felt a renewed sense of purpose coursing through me. This was exactly what I needed—a mission to focus on, a Little to protect.
"I want in on this," I said firmly. "Where do we start?"
“Me too,” Dion added.
Gideon nodded, unsurprised. "I figured you would. We'll start by interviewing Emily's coworkers and friends. See if anyone noticed anything unusual lately. Eric will dig into her financials, see if there's anything that stands out. Maddox, you and Dion can take the family angle. See what you can find out about her relationship with them."
I nodded, already mentally preparing for the investigation. As much as I wanted to help Clare, I knew I needed to give her space.
“Have either of you spoken to Walker in the last couple of days?”
I shook my head. I’d seen him at Kingdom on Friday.
“He’s gone to Destin. His gran is sick. He might be away for a while.” I took in Dion’s sigh and Gideon’s worried expression and understood. Of us all—if that was even possible—Walker was the most closed off. We knew his gran had raised him, and that was about all.
“We can cover him,” I said. It wasn’t like I was doing anything else. Clare had made that painfully obvious.
Dion and I headed out to start investigating Emily Carter's disappearance. As we drove to her workplace to interview her coworkers, I filled Dion in on what had happened with Clare.
"I'm sorry, man," Dion said sympathetically after I finished recounting the disastrous session. "That must have been rough."
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road. "I feel like I pushed too hard, too fast. Like I've ruined any chance of helping her."
"You can't think that way," Dion said firmly. "The important thing is that you're there for her, even if she needs space right now."
I sighed heavily. "I know you're right. It's just...hard. I want to help her so badly."
"I get it," Dion said. "But maybe focusing on this case for a while will be good for both of you. Give her some time, and you a chance to clear your head."
We arrived at the Department of Children and Family Services where Emily worked. After flashing our IDs, we were directed to speak with Emily's supervisor, a stern-looking woman named Margaret Holloway.
"Emily is one of our best caseworkers," Margaret told us, worry evident in her voice. "She's dedicated, compassionate. The kids she works with adore her. It's completely out of character for her to just disappear like this."
"Did Emily ever mention any problems at home?" I asked carefully. "Any issues with her family?"
Margaret hesitated, her brow furrowing. "She didn't talk about her family much," she admitted. "But there were times...well, let's just say I got the impression things weren't great there. Emily would sometimes come in looking upset after holidays or family events."
Dion and I exchanged a glance. "Did she ever give any specifics?" Dion pressed.
Margaret shook her head. "No, she was very private about it. But..." she paused, seeming to debate whether to continue. "There was one time, about a year ago. Emily came in looking particularly distraught. When I asked if she was okay, she just said something about how she could never be what her parents wanted. That she was tired of pretending."
My heart clenched at Margaret's words, thinking of how many Littles felt that way—forced to hide their true selves from disapproving families.
"Did Emily ever mention seeing anyone?" I asked. "A boyfriend or girlfriend perhaps?"
Margaret shook her head, apologetically. “The cops already asked me that, but I can’t think of anything.” She hesitated. “Emily volunteered at Furbabies.”
I almost got whiplash with how quickly Dion’s head came up.
Dion immediately said he would go check it out and I deflated a little. It was clear Dion wanted to investigate himself, and I had my own problems. It wasn’t fair to use Emily as a distraction. She needed someone’s total focus. “Let me know if and when you need me,” I told Dion.
Gratitude flashed in Dion’s eyes as he realized I was taking a step back. “And you let me know how I can help you,” he returned.
I called Gideon and told him what we’d found. “Keep me informed. Oh, and just to remind you both, we’re holding an introductory Little session at Salvation on Friday. Invite only. Abby was clear it had to be a small gathering.”
I couldn’t help the smile. For all Gideon was a Daddy to Abby’s Little, it was clear who was really in charge. But it made me think. “What’s the chances of Abby calling Clare and inviting her?”
Gideon chuckled. “Let me see what I can do.”
CLARE
I stared at my phone, my finger hovering over Maddox's number. It had been almost a week since our disastrous session, and I hadn't contacted him once. He’d texted me twice but I hadn’t replied. Part of me felt guilty for ghosting him, but another part was still too scared to reach out.
A text notification popped up, startling me. It was from an unknown number:
"Hi Clare, this is Abby (Maddox's friend). I'm having a small Little get-together at Salvation on Friday night. Very low-key, just a few of us. Would love for you to join if you're up for it. No pressure at all! Let me know x."
My heart raced as I read the message. A Little get-together? At Salvation? The idea both thrilled and terrified me.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I typed back:
"Hi Abby, thanks for the invite. Can I think about it and let you know?"
Abby's response came quickly: "Of course! Take all the time you need. The offer stands no matter what. Starts at 6pm."
I set my phone down, my mind whirling. Part of me wanted to go—to be around other Littles, to explore that side of myself in a safe environment. But another part was terrified of being vulnerable again, of potentially seeing Maddox.
I picked up my phone again, this time scrolling to Anna's number. My therapist had been encouraging me to push my boundaries, to not let fear control my life. But this felt like a big step. Before I could talk myself out of it, I hit the call button. Anna answered on the second ring.
"Clare, it's good to hear from you," she said warmly. "How are you doing?"
I took a deep breath. "I'm...okay. I got an invitation to a Little get-together at Salvation on Friday. I'm not sure if I should go."
"Tell me more about your hesitation," Anna prompted gently.
"I'm scared," I admitted. "What if I panic again? What if I see Maddox there? I haven't talked to him since..."
"Since the session at his house," Anna finished. "Clare, it's understandable to be nervous. But remember what we've talked about—avoiding situations that make you anxious only reinforces that anxiety."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "I know. It's just...hard."
"Of course it is," Anna said calmly. "But think about it this way—this could be a chance to explore your Little side in a safe, controlled environment. You'd be around others who understand, without the pressure of a one-on-one dynamic."
I considered her words. "That's true. And Abby said it would be very low-key." I took a deep breath, considering. "Part of me really wants to go," I admitted. "To see what it's like, to be around other Littles. But I'm scared too. What if I panic again? What if...what if Maddox is there?"
"Those are valid concerns," Anna said gently. "But remember, you've made so much progress already. You recognized your trigger at Maddox's house and removed yourself from the situation. That shows growth and self-awareness."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "Maddox said that."
"And as for Maddox," Anna continued, because we’d already talked about that, "if he is there, you can always leave if you feel uncomfortable. But this could also be a chance to talk to him in a neutral environment, if you want to."
I considered her words carefully. "You really think I should go?"
"I think it could be a positive step," Anna replied. "But only if you feel ready. There's no shame in saying no if you're not there yet."
After talking with Anna for a few more minutes, I hung up feeling more resolved. Before I could second-guess myself, I texted Abby back:
"I'd like to come. Thank you for inviting me."
Abby's enthusiastic response came quickly, along with some details about the event. As I read through them, a mix of excitement and anxiety swirled in my stomach.
Friday evening arrived all too quickly. I stood in front of my closet, agonizing over what to wear. I didn't have any overtly "Little" clothes anymore, having gotten rid of them after escaping Jeremy. Finally, I settled on a soft sweater and leggings—comfortable but not too childish. I’d returned my popsie to the tin when I’d come back from Maddox’s and resolved for it to stay there.
As I drove to Salvation, my hands shook slightly on the steering wheel. I reminded myself that I could leave at any time if it became too much. When I arrived, I sat in my car for several minutes, trying to calm my racing heart.
"You can do this," I whispered to myself. "You're safe.”
I took a deep breath and stepped out of my car, my heart racing as I approached the entrance to Salvation. The club looked different in the early evening light—less intimidating somehow. A sign on the door read "Private Event" and I hesitated for a moment before knocking.
I tried not to quake at the scary man who opened the door and scanned my ID. He pressed a button and suddenly a woman was there in a red and white polka-dot dress with matching ribbons in her pigtails. "Clare! I'm so glad you made it. I’m Abby," she said warmly, pulling me into a gentle hug. I stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact but found myself relaxing into her embrace after a moment.
"Thank you for inviting me," I said softly as she led me inside.
She scooted me through the main area, and I just got a glimpse of the bar before she led me through another door. Inside, the space was filled with soft lighting, colorful beanbags, and low tables covered in art supplies and games. A small group of people—maybe six or seven—were scattered around, some coloring, others playing board games.
"We keep these gatherings small and low-key," Abby explained as we walked. "It's a safe space for Littles to explore and connect without any pressure."
I nodded, taking it all in. My eyes scanned the room, both hoping and dreading to see Maddox. But he wasn't there.
"Maddox isn't here," Abby said gently, seeming to read my mind. "He wanted to give you space. But if you'd like him to be—”
“No,” I rushed out. I didn’t need Maddox. I didn’t. Despite the Little voice whispering in my ear that I was lying.
Abby was lots of fun, even if sometimes I couldn’t keep up as she seemed to jump to different topics as if we’d already had a conversation about them that I’d missed. Her best friend Roxy took charge and translated at that point, so I didn’t get lost, and Abby grinned and never let it upset her.
“I wish I was like you,” I whispered at one point while we were riding the train that seemed to circle the room and was so much fun.
She tilted her head at me. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I drive most people crazy.” She flushed. “Except Daddy.”
I desperately wanted a Daddy. I could feel myself sinking into my Little space, but I felt too nervous to let go.
“You remind me of Sadie.” She said, and then she brightened. “I spoke the context,” she said excitedly.
“Yes,” I said encouragingly after a moment because it seemed she was excited even though I didn’t really understand.
“No, I don’t normally,” she shared. “I tend to say things and think all the rest of the stuff in my head so when it comes out of my mouth it can seem a bit random.”
I beamed because she was so happy. “Who’s Sadie?”
“She’s a rescue dog. Poor lamb. She was very growly for a while and it made Daddy worry, but she didn’t trust us. She expected people to hurt her, and it took a while for me to know she preferred turnip.”
I blinked but then Abbie sighed. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
I clasped her hand because this seemed important. “I want to understand.”
“Sadie hates carrots. She likes green beans and turnip mixed in her food, but because she hated carrots, I thought that meant she hated me.” I still wasn’t sure I understood. Abby gripped my hand. “The important thing is that Daddy understood why I was upset.”
It was? To me the important thing was that the dog got fed what she liked.
“Men can be like vegetables,” she confided. “Sometimes they want to give you carrots because root vegetables are important, when you really want ice cream. The tricky thing is finding a Daddy that knows how important ice cream is after you eat the carrots. Like Maddox.”
I blinked. How had we gone from carrots to Maddox?
The train stopped and the door opened to the Little room almost at the same time. Maddox stood there and his gaze zeroed on me. I knew Maddox fell in the ice-cream category, because I wanted nothing more than to lick him all over.