Page 32 of Single Mom's Navy Seals
“Not sure Morales is thinking long-term right now,” Jax admits, glancing back briefly toward Ava and Eli. His voice softens, brows furrowing. “Honestly, guys, I don’t think he’s thought this through.”
I study Jax’s expression. Something more than mere curiosity or concern shadows his face. “What happened earlier, at the diner?” I finally ask, keeping my voice quiet.
Jax hesitates for a second, lips pressing together in thought. “Ava panicked when Eli asked for food,” he admits finally, voice low and heavy. “She stepped away, thinking we weren’t watching, checking her wallet. She’s down to practically nothing. Apparently, Witness Protection just leaves them to their own devices after a while. And because this move wasn’t officially organized through the program, she’s been funding it herself. She’s nearly tapped out.”
“Is that why you two stepped aside earlier?” Liam asks, his tone surprisingly gentle.
Jax nods, sighing quietly. “Yeah. It took a lot to convince her to take my card. She’s proud, stubborn—she really doesn’t like accepting help. But what was she going to do? Let Eli go hungry?”
“Jesus,” Liam mutters darkly, fingers tightening on the wheel. “Why didn’t Morales give her resources? What the fuck is he thinking, sending her out here with no backup funds, nothing?”
I shrug, frustration knotting my chest tightly. “Maybe he figured we’re the resources. Maybe that’s the whole point—sending her out with us.”
Liam’s eyes flash, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “Still doesn’t sit right with me. She’s already been through enough.”
“Exactly my point,” Jax says, turning in his seat to look at us fully. “Look, I don’t know how long we’ll have to keep her and Eli out here, hidden away. But if we only have a few days or a few weeks with them before Morales shoves them back into anotherisolated prison, then don’t you think they deserve to experience as much comfort and safety as we can give them while they’re with us?”
Liam’s gaze flickers briefly toward Jax, brows raised in surprise. “You seem pretty attached already, considering we’ve only been with them two days.”
Jax shrugs easily, a faint, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “What I choose to do is my business, Liam. It’s my money, and let’s be honest—I never have anything to spend it on anyway. Eli reminds me of myself at that age. I didn’t have a mother like Ava—I didn’t have anyone half as good as she is. Eli deserves the world, and Ava deserves a break. I plan to spoil them both as long as I can.”
Liam goes quiet, lips pressing into a thoughtful line. My own thoughts spiral, Jax’s words striking something deep and raw within me. My gaze shifts unconsciously to Ava, still sleeping, completely oblivious to our quiet discussion about her life and struggles.
Jax’s question hangs heavily between us, unanswered yet undeniable. The SUV continues steadily along the highway, silence settling comfortably between us again. Jax turns back toward the window, gaze distant but content. Liam remains quiet, jaw tight, thoughts clearly swirling behind his careful mask.
My own gaze drifts back to Ava, taking in her peaceful expression, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. Warmth blooms softly within me, quiet and undeniable. Jax is right—they deserve comfort, safety, everything we can offer. And if Morales expects us to be their only resources, then we damn well better be up to the task.
The monotone voice of the GPS crackles to life, instructing Liam to take the next turn onto a narrow dirt road, interrupting the silence. Liam slows and smoothly guides the car off the pavement. Gravel crunches loudly beneath our tires, and the car rattles, shaking Ava awake with a small, startled breath. She looks around, eyes cloudy with sleep and momentary fear. Her hand drifts toward Eli instinctively, but my voice catches her first.
“Hey, we’re almost at the cabin,” I tell her, keeping my voice low.
She blinks at me, and our eyes lock a moment longer than necessary, long enough that I feel it. The quiet pull. Something unspoken. Eli continues sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the world.
Ahead of us, the road widens, ending at a large metal gate flanked by endless lengths of fencing that seem to stretch forever into the vastness of the desert. Liam rolls to a stop, the gate blocking our path forward. The sign mounted beside it catches my attention immediately—Hardy Lane Wild Horse Sanctuary.
“What the hell?” Liam mutters from the driver’s seat, his brows knitted together.
Jax sits up straighter, craning his neck to get a better view through the windshield. “Did Morales say anything to you guys about horses?”
“Not a damn word,” Liam answers shortly, eyes narrowing as he stares at the gate.
Jax huffs, amusement coloring his voice. “Figures. Man loves his surprises.”
Liam sighs heavily, clearly irritated, and glances pointedly at Jax. “Hop out and get the gate, will you?”
Jax groans dramatically but climbs from the car, jogging toward the gate. I watch as he unlatches it and swings the heavy metal pieces open with practiced ease, allowing Liam to roll forward. Once we’re through, Jax pushes it closed behind us, securing the latch firmly, and jogs back, slipping smoothly into his seat again.
We continue down the dirt path, deeper into the sprawling property. The further we travel, the more apparent it becomes that we’re truly isolated here. Surrounding us are massive rock formations that are too large to be mere boulders, yet too small to be mountains. Sparse trees struggle to survive in the arid climate, their branches twisted and gnarled. Tumbleweeds roll lazily across our path, pushed by the desert wind.
Then, something moves in my peripheral vision, drawing my attention. My heart clenches in my chest as I see the wild horses. Small groups galloping freely, their muscles sleek beneath their coats, manes flowing like silk banners in the dry wind. They run alongside the fence line, effortlessly keeping pace with the car.
I feel an unexpected ache bloom deep in my chest, tight and heavy. It’s been years—decades even—since I’ve seen horses up close, running wild and free. The sight drags me back to a past I’ve long tried to bury. A past filled with wide-open spaces, endless green pastures, and a father whose life revolved around the land we worked tirelessly together.
My father had been a man of few words, tough and silent, every emotion buried beneath a rugged exterior. He had expectations that I shattered when I chose the SEALs over the ranch. He’d tried to hide the hurt behind stoicism, but I saw it in his eyes the day I left.
On my first long deployment, everything changed. He got sick suddenly. He downplayed it in every letter, brushing off my concerns, promising he was fine. Until suddenly, he wasn’t. The news came abruptly—my father was gone, and with him went the farm, sold to pay for the treatments he’d hidden from me. Treatments for an aggressive and far-advanced form of bone cancer.
The will had arrived just a few weeks later, detailing what little of my ‘inheritance’ remained after the farm’s sale and my father’s illness.
