Page 39 of Single Mom's Navy Seals
“As long as your mom says it’s okay,” Cole’s gaze flicks over to mine, his voice calm and reassuring, “we’ll get you as many of them as you want.”
Three pairs of eyes shift expectantly to me, and my stomach flips. Eli jumps on the moment before I can even open my mouth.
“Please, Mommy, can I?”
I hesitate, worrying again about using their money. Before I can answer, a throat clears behind me. I glance over my shoulder, surprised to see Jax with ingredients spread out on the counter and a cutting board in front of him. He locks eyes with me, raising an eyebrow that clearly says, Remember what I said. Buy anything.
I roll my eyes at him, but he only winks in return. Shaking my head, I turn back to Eli and the two waiting men.
“Fine. Yes, Eli, you can get more toys and games. But you need to promise me you’ll be very grateful, always say thank you, and take good care of whatever gifts they give you.”
Eli’s smile beams so brightly it nearly lights the whole room. “Thank you! I will, Mommy, I promise!”
Liam pulls out one of the empty chairs beside them, gesturing for Eli to join the table. Eli scrambles onto the seat between Liam and Cole, already chattering as he starts listing his favorite board games and every toy he’s ever seen in his entire life.
For a second, I hesitate, unsure if I should stay hovering near the table. But things with Liam are still awkward at best since the other morning, and I don’t really feel like wading through that tension right now. Instead, I make my way to the kitchen island, pulling out a stool as Jax starts chopping vegetables.
“Honestly, you’re the last one I’d expect to find cooking,” I tease, folding my arms on the counter. “I would’ve pegged you for the kind of guy who thinks takeout is home cooking.”
Jax chuckles and flashes me a grin. “You’d be surprised. Out of the three of us, I’m actually the best cook. Usually, I’m in charge of the meals when we’re home.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, genuinely surprised. “Have you always liked cooking?”
He shakes his head, eyes dropping to the vegetables he’s slicing. His voice softens, becoming more thoughtful. “Not at first. Cooking was more of a necessity. I grew up in foster care my whole childhood.”
A deep frown pulls at my brows, my chest tightening at the casual admission. I stay quiet, letting him take the lead. He hesitates for a moment, knife hovering above the cutting board.
When he speaks again, his tone is casual but guarded. “I went into the system around Eli’s age. My mom was a single mom too, but she wasn’t anything like you. She wasn’t strong. She was in an abusive relationship long before I came along, and when he left her, she hooked up with some guy at a party. That guy became my dad—he didn’t want anything to do with a kid. Mom kept me anyway, but those five years were rough.”
My stomach turns with each word, a knot forming in my throat.
He continues, still slicing steadily. “When I was five, the man she’d been with before—he came back. I lived with them for about two months before I convinced her to sign her rights over. I was five, but even I knew it was better to be in the system than in that house.”
Anger flares in my chest, and I blurt out before I can stop myself. “What kind of fucking mother does that?”
Jax’s gaze snaps up to meet mine, and heat rushes up my neck. I hold my hand up in apology.
“I’m sorry, that was out of line. I shouldn’t?—”
“Don’t apologize,” he says firmly, his eyes darkening with sincerity. “It’s the truth. She was no mother.” He softens his expression, his voice lowering to something gentle. “You, on the other hand, are a fantastic mother. Eli’s got this spark in him that you really nurture. He reminds me so much of myself at that age. My mother didn’t protect my spark, and her choices let a lot of darkness into my life. I’ve had to deal with that even now. But you’ve made all the hard choices for him. You’ve protected himevery step of the way to make sure that nothing dims his. It only took two days for me to be completely in awe of you.”
Jax reaches across the counter and brushes a tear from my cheek. His knuckles linger just long enough to make my breath catch. “Seriously, Ava. Don’t downplay it. You’re the kind of mother I would’ve killed to have.”
I freeze, heart thudding in my chest, and for a moment we just... look at each other. The air stretches, full of something I’m not ready to name. Then he turns back to the cutting board like nothing happened, but I’m still burning from that touch.
Heat floods my cheeks, and my eyes sting. I open my mouth to say something, but no words come. Jax seems to sense my struggle and picks up his personal story where he left off, as if he hadn’t just said something that left me choked up and speechless.
“After I went into foster care, I bounced around a lot. Thirteen years, home after home, always moving. Cooking became how I took care of myself. You learn fast when there’s no one else.”
He pauses, scooping the chopped veggies into a bowl as a small smile pulls at his lips. “But the moment I really fell in love with it was after I left the SEALs. Things were hard. I couldn’t sleep and ended up sitting in my kitchen, scrolling through social media. A video about making a pound cake came up, and I remember thinking, I’m not sleeping anyway. Next thing I knew, I was baking French pastries and making pasta from scratch, all from online videos. It kept my hands busy those first months out. Honestly, cooking probably saved me.”
I lean forward, smiling despite the heaviness lingering in the air. “Maybe you’ll have to teach me how to bake. I can handle dinner pretty well, but baking is usually a disaster.”
“I’m sure you could be great.”
“Maybe.” The memory sneaks in, pulling at my chest. My smile softens. “My mom was an incredible baker.”
“Will you tell me about her?” Jax asks. “We got some basic briefing on your past, but it really only focused on your ties to the mafia. You were raised by your mom at first, right?”
