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. Andhelp 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. Butthen, 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.
Chapter twelve
