Page 6 of Single Mom's Navy Seals
Pushing the door open further, I slip into the small bedroom. Eli’s curled up beneath his blanket, clutching his worn stuffed bear like it’s a lifeline. His sandy-brown hair is tousled, curls spilling onto his forehead, and in sleep, he looks impossibly innocent. My throat tightens again, tears burning behind my eyes.
I shouldn’t have waited. I shouldn’t have convinced myself we were safe.
Careful not to disturb him, I slide into his narrow bed, the mattress sinking beneath my weight. The warmth of his small body immediately seeps into me, easing some of the tension coiled in my chest. Instinctively, Eli stirs, mumbling, eyes fluttering open halfway.
“Mommy?” His sleepy voice tugs painfully at my heart, so trusting, so sure I’ll keep him safe.
“Shh, baby,” I whisper, brushing his hair off his forehead. “It’s okay. I just…had a bad dream.”
He blinks drowsily, eyes already drifting closed again. “It’s okay, Mommy. I’ll protect you from the bad dreams.”
His words are innocent, the bravery of a five-year-old who believes monsters can be banished with hugs and bedtime stories. I pull him closer, burying my face in his hair to hide the tears that slip free, soaking silently into the pillow.
My son deserves better than this. Better than fear, hiding, and running.
My mind flashes unwillingly to Randy, his cruel smile etched permanently in my memories. When I married him at nineteen, I thought I knew what fear was. I thought surviving each day of his unpredictable moods, the threats disguised as love, and the bruises hidden beneath designer clothes was the worst that life could offer. I’d convinced myself I could endure it—that I was strong enough to survive. But then came Eli.
The night Randy found out I’d secretly gone on birth control, I knew my life had changed forever. He tracked down my doctor, forced me to remove the implant, and two months later, I was pregnant. Randy had been ecstatic. It wasn't joy. It was sick greed, satisfaction at the idea of a son to carry on his twisted legacy. I’d hoped for a girl, a way to disappoint him enough that he’d discard me like his previous wives. They’d failed him, unable to provide the heir he obsessed over.
I remember clearly the cold, sterile doctor’s office the day we discovered Eli’s gender. When the technician smiled and announced, “Congratulations, it’s a boy,” I’d broken down, sobbing uncontrollably, grief swallowing me whole. Randy had leaned in close, gripping my arm until pain shot up to my shoulder, hissing that I’d better shut up before he gave me a real reason to cry.
That night, I mourned. I grieved not just for myself, but for the baby inside me, for the future he’d never know. I'd resignedmyself to a life trapped beneath Randy’s cruelty. But the next morning, everything changed.
I’d awoken to shouting downstairs, Randy’s voice raised in cold fury. Curiosity and dread propelled me silently to the staircase, and from there, I witnessed the scene that finally broke me. Randy, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, shirt spattered with blood, stood over a man pleading for his life. With a calm brutality I’d never forget, Randy silenced him permanently, the thud echoing in my ears long after I'd retreated to my room.
At that moment, I knew I couldn’t stay. Couldn’t allow my child to grow up in Randy’s shadow, learning violence before love. I planned my escape that very night, willing to risk everything—my life, my safety—to give Eli a chance at something better.
And we had it, for a while. Five years of peace, of freedom, of a quiet, isolated life. Now that peace is shattered, and I have no idea how to protect him from the monster we fled.
I hold Eli tighter, pressing my lips to the top of his head, breathing in his comforting scent. His heartbeat, steady and strong, grounds me in reality. I have to fight again, for him. I have no choice but to win this time.
Slowly, exhaustion overtakes the turmoil in my mind, the rhythmic rise and fall of Eli’s chest soothing the storm inside. My eyelids grow heavy, my breathing syncing with his, until finally, sleep claims me, wrapped safely in my son’s warmth.
3
AVA
Iclutch Eli’s hand tighter as we walk through the farmer’s market, my heart still racing from Morales’s phone call yesterday. The vibrant stalls, usually comforting and quaint, feel oddly menacing today. Every shadow, every quick movement, sends my pulse skittering.
“Mommy, can we get some apples?” Eli asks, tugging at my sleeve and pointing toward a brightly colored stall. His face is hopeful, innocent, completely unaware of the panic twisting my stomach into knots.
“Sure, baby,” I reply, forcing a smile as we step closer. The sweet smell of apples fills my nose, momentarily soothing my frazzled nerves. Eli eagerly selects a shiny red apple, handing it proudly to me as if it’s the most precious thing in the world.
“Is this one okay?” he asks seriously.
“It’s perfect,” I say, my throat tightening with a sudden, overwhelming wave of love. Eli is my entire world, and the thought of Randy or anyone else threatening our fragile happiness sends a surge of protectiveness through me.
“Thanks, Mommy,” Eli chirps happily, bouncing a little on his toes as I pay the vendor and tuck the apple into our bag. But the calm moment shatters when I turn around.
Two men stand near a stall selling handcrafted jewelry, their posture stiff and unnatural among the casually dressed townspeople. Their suits, dark and impeccably tailored, clash painfully with the easy-going Vermont crowd. My heart stalls in my chest, and fear, sharp and instant, floods every part of me.
“Mommy?” Eli’s voice breaks through my panic. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, sweetie,” I lie automatically, even as my breath quickens and cold sweat prickles my spine. “We should go now. Let’s head back to the car, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, sensing my tension even though he doesn’t understand it.
I grip his tiny hand as we weave through the crowd, my gaze darting around, scanning every face. The men haven’t moved, but their eyes are sharp, and thankfully, they don’t seem to have noticed us yet. My heart hammers painfully against my ribs, fear threatening to choke me.
