Page 8 of Brock’s Lost Lunchbox

And of course that was right.

Ms. Lily continued on to another table, and I helped Brock to his feet and took in the task ahead. Some of the daddies at the munches had claimed it took a week to get the last bits out of their littles’ hair and a professional detailing to make sure their car interior didn’t sparkle in the sunlight. But looking at this little, I could see why they didn’t insist Chained ban the craft entirely. “I like to draw stars,” he told me as I tried to think how to handle the de-glittering. No, it would not all be gone, not even mostly without a loofah and a good strong shower spray, but I could start at the top and work my way down. “But nothing besides glitter looks real.

“Oh, yes. I see.”

He launched into a discussion of the differences between crayons, paint, and chalks compared to his favorite medium while I had him close his eyes and shake his head over the tarp. Ruffling his hair with my fingertips helped dislodge more before moving to dust his shoulders and the rest of his clothes. “And that’s why glitter is the most very bestest of all the star makers.”

By this point, I was moving down his body, careful to avoid any very personal areas, which would just have to stay sparkly. We did not have any kind of relationship or agreement beyond this evening. This moment, really.

“He’s friends with Sammy’s daddy,” Brock mumbled to himself as I dusted the tops of his sneakers. They shimmered even without the glitter, I noticed. Very jazzy. I was so glad to hear his words because he was being safe. “I’m so glad you found my lunchbox.”

This was spoken aloud, so I replied, “Me, too. I hope it wasn’t damaged?”

He picked it up and turned it all around. “No. It’s fine.” Although it sparkled a bit now, since he’d had it next to him from the moment he received it. “What if I lost it somewhere else?”

“We can’t know because you didn’t, but I imagine this was a one-time accident.” I certainly didn’t want him to worry. “It looks like you take very good care of it.”

“I do.” He let it hang at his side, and I held out a hand. Brock slipped his fingers trustingly into mind, and my throat swelled. “But you are a hero daddy for saving my lunchbox.”

“I’m honored. Now, this is my first time at Chained. Would you like to show me around the room and tell me what you like to do besides glitter crafts?”

“Okay.” He led me to the next table, where two littles were putting together a long train, linking the cars and pushing them along a round track. “This is trains. I like them sometimes, mostly when my friend London is here. He knows all about them and makes it very fun.”

“He’s not here tonight?”

“No. His daddy Gray works for train companies and is out of town, so he went with him. London has a whistle that sounds just like a train horn.”

“That’s very cool.” I followed him from table to table while he talked to me about his friends and what he liked to do, making mental notes in case this extraordinary little might choose to play with me on another night. He finally stopped where a group of littles were sitting around a table while a big person set up a volcano.

“This is science,” he informed me in a very serious tone.

“Do you like science?”

“Yes, but tonight I want to play blocks.” His gaze flicked from the volcano to me. “Do you like blocks?”

“I like to build tall towers then watch someone knock them over. It’s really fun if I can find someone who likes to do that part.”

He beamed at me then leaned in close and whispered, “I like to do that. I love to knock them over.”

As it turned out, he liked to help build too, and we did that for a while. When he gave our tower a push and the blocks tumbled to the floor, he laughed so hard, I wanted to do that forever. But the evening was winding down, and Ms. Lily came around to tell everyone that the little room would be closing in ten minutes, so we had to finish our games.

Groans followed her progress, but it seemed everyone knew the routine, and probably Ms. Lily, enough not to argue.

Hours had passed while I relaxed more fully than I could ever remember doing. Was I going to be a great and perfect daddy? Time would tell if I had what it took to truly meet the needs of a little, and nobody was perfect. But I’d learned a lot about myself tonight, including how much I loved spending time with an adorable little. With this adorable little. I felt a connection and hoped Brock did too.

Not that I could ask—it didn’t feel appropriate. I could only hope we ran into one another on another evening soon. Maybe get to know one another better.

We parted outside the changing rooms, and I headed for my car. I would have loved to escort him to his, but it was plenty safe with all the others leaving, and being pushy was unfair.

On the way home, I had the idea to get a tracker for Brock’s lunchbox in case it ever did go missing again. I could give it to Will to pass along and not tell him where it came from. He could just say it was something he thought might be helpful.

My jaws ached from smiling, and I slept so well, I wondered how long I hadn’t been resting as I should. Next morning, I filled out the online paperwork for a Chained membership.

Chapter Seven

Brock

It’d been a week since Little Night, and it was official. Zeph had moved into my head rent-free. And I didn’t mind. I might not have time for a daddy or a relationship, but the memories of that night I could handle.