Page 40 of Single Mom's Navy Seals
“Yeah,” I say, shifting on my stool. “It was just us until I was thirteen. My mom was a waitress when she met my dad. She always told me how she got swept off her feet by his flashiness, his attention, the way he made her feel important. Classic love-bombing, really. Next thing she knew, she was pregnant with me.”
I sigh, tapping my fingernails on the countertop. Jax remains quiet, chopping up chicken breasts now, clearly giving me space to speak.
“My mom always said she was ecstatic when she found out about me. But after she got pregnant, my dad started changing. She figured out pretty fast he was connected to organized crime and dangerous, but by then it was too late to get herself out.”
“How did she end up escaping with you?” Jax asks.
“She didn’t,” I say flatly. “Fate gave her a break. I turned out to be a girl. The Capacelli family has some fucking twisted views about gender. Girls are basically worthless if they aren’t from a double mafia bloodline. But when my mom first got pregnant, they thought there was a boy. The first tests showed twins, a boyand a girl. My mom was practically held hostage by them at that point. They wanted her to marry my dad, raise their future little mafioso.” My voice goes bitter. “They didn’t give a damn about the girl twin.”
My fingers tighten into fists on the countertop.
“But then my mom went into labor a few weeks early. My brother was born stillborn. I came out screaming. Mom always said the universe gave her a blessing. Because when my dad saw he had no son, just me, he told my mom she was on her own.”
Jax’s jaw goes tight, his knife movements stiffening. “Everyone connected with Capacelli is fucking scum if that’s how they treat women and children.”
“Yeah,” I say, “but that was our ticket out. There was no use for me in their world. Women are pawns. Our purpose is either political marriages, ransom, or pleasure. I was too young to serve any of those purposes. My dad never wanted marriage, especially without the gain of a son, so he raged for a bit and then gave my mom a hundred-dollar bill and walked out of the hospital. He’d already signed my birth certificate, and Mom told him he’d never hear from us again if he let us go right then. He agreed.”
Jax rounds the counter and stands beside me. He doesn’t ask—he just places a hand gently on my lower back. I lean into it without thinking, grateful for the warmth, the quiet support. His presence makes it easier to keep going, to relive hell without falling apart.
I swallow down the lump that forms. “And he kept his word, until thirteen years later. Signing that damn birth certificate ruined everything. Mom was killed in a car accident. We didn’thave other family. The police contacted him because his name was on my birth certificate and he’d never legally relinquished his rights.”
The kitchen goes silent. I don’t know why I’m telling him all this. No one has ever wanted to hear it before. Jax has opened some dam inside me I didn’t even know existed, and now it won’t close.
“I was at an afterschool event when it happened,” I continue quietly. “Mom was on her way to pick me up. She never showed. An hour passed, and my teachers called the police. That’s when I found out. At the station, they told me she’d died on impact.”
My throat closes, choking off the rest. I don’t tell him the worst part—the part I’ve never spoken out loud to anyone. In the case of someone who dies without adult kin, the county automatically cremates the body and holds the ashes for thirty days. No one came for her. My mother’s ashes sat forgotten in some county coroner’s office, and then were thrown away like garbage. That haunts me more than anything.
Jax finally breaks the heavy quiet. “So, why’d your father take you if he didn’t want you? You were still just a girl and too young to be useful to them.”
“Because the Don told him to,” I say, scowling at the memory. “I sat at the police station for three hours before my dad showed up. He brought the Don with him. I’d never met either of them, but I knew they were just as evil as Mom warned me about. My dad stormed in yelling about how he didn’t want the burden. But the Don took one look at me and decided I was a good investment. He said he could see I was already beautiful at thirteen, and that when I was older, I’d be a valuable bargaining chip.”
His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Is your father still alive? I know the Don is, but what about your dad?”
My mouth tightens, the bitterness flaring back. “Yeah. He was arrested with Randy but got out two years earlier. Lesser charges, good behavior.”
Jax nods, a strange, calm satisfaction settling over his face. “Perfect.”
I narrow my eyes. “Perfect? Why?”
Jax doesn’t move away—if anything, he steps closer. His thigh brushes my knee, the heat of him impossible to ignore. I’m acutely aware of the space between us shrinking, of how easy it would be to lean forward and just... kiss him. It’s stupid. It’s reckless. But it’s also real.
He smiles darkly. “Because I’m going to kill your father when this is all over.” The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine—and not entirely out of fear.
I choke on air, eyes wide. “What? You can’t just— You’ll get caught. It’s too dangerous.”
Jax lifts an eyebrow. “Would it make you sad if I did it?”
I hesitate, the words heavy on my tongue. Finally, I sigh. “No, it wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean I want you in jail or dead because you decided to mess with the mafia.”
Jax throws back his head, laughing loudly enough that Liam, Cole, and Eli glance over. He waves them off easily, still chuckling under his breath. He leans closer, eyes locking onto mine.
“I’ve spent my entire adult life taking down bullies, Ava,” he says seriously. “Men who thought they could hurt whoever they wanted because they were bigger, richer, more powerful. None of those men are alive anymore, and I’m not in jail yet, am I?”
“Yeah, but you can’t just kill someone because they were a shitty father.”
“I’ve done it for less,” Jax says bluntly, arching an eyebrow.
Something shifts in me, confusion and curiosity mixing. For the first time, I wonder what exactly he and the others do. Strangely, the admission doesn’t bother me like it probably should. Maybe because the people he’s killed were all monsters, anyway? At least, that’s what I choose to tell myself.
