Page 8 of Maddox

Maddox took a step closer, and I instinctively backed away. Hurt flashed in his eyes, but he didn't move any farther.

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t answer immediately but his eyes swept the apartment. "You don't have to pretend with me," he said gently. "I know you're struggling. I just want to help."

I felt tears pricking at my eyes and blinked them back furiously. "I don't need help. I'm handling things."

He glanced pointedly at the pile of takeout containers on the counter, the unwashed dishes in the sink. "Is this handling things?"

Anger flared in my chest. "You don't get to judge me," I snapped. "You have no idea what I'm going through."

"You're right," Maddox said, holding up his hands placatingly. "I don't. But I want to understand. I want to be here for you, Clare."

I felt my resolve wavering. Part of me wanted to give in, to let Maddox take care of me. But the fear was too strong.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you care so much?"

Maddox took a deep breath. "Because I see how much you're hurting. And because... I care about you, Clare. More than I probably should."

His admission hit me like a punch to the gut. I shook my head, backing away farther. "No. You can't. I'm not... I can't be what you want."

"You don't know what I want," Maddox said softly.

"I know exactly what you want," I replied, my voice trembling. "You're a Daddy Dom and I can't... I won't ever be able to be a Little again. Not after..."

I couldn't finish the sentence, but Maddox nodded in understanding.

"Clare, listen to me," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "What that monster did to you— that wasn't being a Daddy. That was abuse, plain and simple. Real Daddies protect and care for their Littles. We don't hurt or manipulate them."

Tears were streaming down my face now. "It doesn't matter. I can't trust that side of myself ever again. It's too dangerous."

Maddox took a cautious step closer. "I understand. And I would never make you do something you don’t want.”

“Then what’s this?” I challenged. “You showing up seems pretty pushy to me.”

He stared at me. “I think youwantto be pushed.” My lips parted, ready for a strong denial. “I think that’s why you came to Kingdom. I think you’re worried you’re broken, and I think you want your life back.Allof your life. But especially your Little side.”

His words hit me like a physical blow. I staggered back, wrapping my arms around myself protectively. "You don't know anything about me," I whispered, but the tremor in my voice betrayed my uncertainty.

Maddox's expression softened. "Maybe not everything, but I see more than you realize, Clare. I see a woman who's been through hell, who's trying so hard to be strong. But you don't have to do this alone."

I shook my head vehemently. "No. You're wrong. I don't want... I can't..." But even as I protested, I felt something inside me cracking, a dam of emotions I'd been holding back for so long threatening to burst.

"It's okay to be scared," Maddox said gently, taking another cautious step toward me. "What happened to you was traumatic. But shutting yourself away, denying a part of who you are—that's not the answer."

"How would you know?" I snapped, anger flaring to mask my fear. "You have no idea what it's like to have that part of yourself twisted and used against you. To have something that should be safe and comforting turned into a weapon."

Maddox's eyes filled with pain and understanding. "You're right. I can't fully understand what you went through. But I do know what it's like to struggle with who you are, to be afraid of your own desires." He heaved a breath.

“I grew up in foster homes. Some good, some really bad. But the standard message was always the same. Conformity. If we deviated from the schedule, or heaven help us from the rules, there would always be consequences. We were taught to fit in. We were taught never to make waves. If prospective adoptive parents showed up, we could never show our real faces. Being perfect was expected. We were taught that people would never love us for what we were.”

I swallowed my immediate denial, because what did I know? I’d always been safe, loved, happy…spoiled.

“My best friend was gay. We managed to be in three homes together, bar a few months, but the last one…” He swallowed. “It was run by this bastard that seemed to think his twisted version of the Bible was a message from God to root out all sinners. Especially traumatized little boys that took innocent comfort in holding hands with other little boys.” I watched as Maddox seemed almost to disappear into his thoughts, into his mind, and I ached to wrap my arms around him.

“I was beaten to within an inch of my life, but Kayden didn’t survive. One of the older boys raised the alarm when we were taken to the cellar, but the cops didn’t come in time for Kayden.” His eyes returned to me, even though I could see he was struggling to shake away those memories. “So, I get it. I understand. Being a Little isn’t something you should beashamed or frightened of, and any Daddy I know would be honored for you to place your trust in them.”

My chest tightened at Maddox's words, at the pain in his eyes as he shared his own trauma. Part of me wanted to reach out to him, to offer comfort, but I held myself back.

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