Page 16 of Single Mom's Navy Seals
“Can you sit in the back with me?” Eli asks Jax with wide eyes.
“Course, bud, sounds fun.” The kid beams and then turns that sweet gaze on me.
“You, too?”
“Hey! You don’t want to sit with your mom,” Ava interrupts with a play pout.
Eli grimaces and gives her a pitying look. “Mom, I have to get to know my new friends. It’s not a big deal.”
“Fine,” Ava draws out with dramatic flair. “I’ll sit in the passenger seat and leave you to the bonding.”
“Thanks! Come on!” Eli calls, grabbing both Jax and my hands and dragging us at a faster pace to the running SUV where Liam waits impatiently behind the wheel.
When we get there, Jax and Eli slide into the backseat from one side, and I walk around to the other side and climb in beside the kid. Ava’s buckling up in the passenger seat by the time I get my door closed. As the car pulls onto the quiet highway, Eli’s excited chatter fills the cabin, his innocent laughter mixing easily with Jax’s playful responses. The two of them easily carry the conversation, with my role seeming to be quiet support, a fact I am perfectly fine with.
Up front, Ava stays quiet, staring out the window, lost in thought as the night stretches out before us. My eyes are drawn to her image in the rear mirror like a moth to a fucking flame. It’s unsettling as hell, this pull toward her—but I can’t seem to stopit. Something about her feels magnetic, and it’s not a feeling I would say I’m quite comfortable with.
7
AVA
My legs ache from sitting in the same position for hours, the stiff vinyl seat offering little to no comfort. The pale wash of early morning light creeps across the endless highway, revealing a flat landscape of fields and distant, sleepy towns. The sun is just beginning to rise. We left the motel sometime after nine, and a glance at the dashboard tells me it’s 5:21 in the morning. Around eight hours of driving, and from the GPS, we have another four hours left before we reach the first stop.
Great.
Liam told me when we started driving that the total trip to the safehouse in Nevada would be about thirty-six hours. We’re going to tackle the drive in three days, twelve hours of driving each day, not counting stops. So, in about four hours, I’d be able to rest at a motel before waking up for the second day of travel.
Exhaustion weighs heavily on my eyelids, but anxiety keeps me alert, my pulse quickening at every shift or unexpected sound inside the car. My eyes have been stubbornly wide open, observing every move Liam, Cole, and Jax make.
In the backseat, Eli is talking, but I know he’s uncomfortable and restless. This is the longest he’s ever been in a car in his life. A while ago, he’d started getting whiny, but the guys had surprisingly stepped in swimmingly. Cole came up with the idea to play Pictionary in the car. Jax took the entire thing and ran with it. Of course he did. He had that reckless, magnetic energy that made it hard to look away—even when I wanted to. Even when I knew better.
Since then, Eli has been far happier. They’re still at it now, and despite the tension knotting my chest, a flicker of warmth lifts the corner of my mouth every time Eli bursts into fits of laughter at Jax’s theatrics.
“Is it a dog?” Eli’s bright voice bubbles from the backseat, cutting through the hum of tires on asphalt.
“Nope! Guess again,” Jax says with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Come on, Eli. Look at it sideways—maybe tilt your head or something.”
I glance over my shoulder, and warmth pools softly in my chest. Jax has his head dramatically tilted, holding the car’s manual at a ridiculous angle. His dark hair is a tousled mess, blue eyes sparkling mischievously as he grins encouragingly at Eli. For someone stuck on a cramped, all-night drive, he seems effortlessly relaxed.
“It has to be a dog,” Eli insists, glancing hopefully at Cole, who sits silently next to him. “Doesn’t it look like a dog, Cole?”
Cole glances down briefly at the page, raising one eyebrow skeptically. “Looks like a blob.”
Eli giggles, burying his face into Cole’s broad shoulder. “A blob dog, then!”
Cole didn’t even smile, just nodded once like that was a perfectly valid answer. That quiet calm of his? It was becoming hard to ignore. He didn’t need words to earn trust—he just existed like someone Eli could lean on. Like someone I could, too, if I ever let myself.
Jax laughs brightly, playfully nudging Eli’s side. “Exactly, kid. The rarest breed. You win again.”
I face forward again, savoring the lightness of Eli’s laughter. It’s not hard to see that having new people in his life has been the most exciting thing for him in the world. If only that were something I could keep providing after this. A deep sigh slips through my lips, and I see Liam sneak a glance at me out of the corner of my eye.
Of the three men in this car, he’s definitely the most confusing to me. Jax was easy to figure out. He’s a flirt and a jokester through and through. Easy to smile, easier to laugh. If circumstances were different, I might find his carefree charm endearing, attractive even. Who am I kidding? Even now, in the middle of this terrifying escape, he still manages to be annoyingly enticing.
Cole isn’t much of a mystery either. A quiet dude, sure, but he seems to be the type that doesn’t have much to say. He seems to speak when he needs to, and otherwise, he’s mostly content to watch. The silent type was never my thing, but something about him is just as alluring as Jax. Plus, Eli is somehow instinctively already trusting him. He has started leaning into Cole’s side, occasionally glancing up with bright eyes, seeking a quick nod or a silent affirmation from his new protector. Eli’s immediate trust in him is nearly enough to convince me to start to let my guard down.
Almost.
But Liam is not as easy to read as the other two. Just as gorgeous in his own way, but so…confusing. He’s barely said anything besides an instruction or demand. Or when he insulted my parenting within the first five minutes of meeting. But, despite his overall dickishness to me, he’s kind to Eli, and that’s something. Even if I can’t figure out what the hell he’s thinking.
