Page 12 of Single Mom’s Navy Seals (Claimed by the Alphas #2)

AVA

A deep voice cuts through the fog. It’s low and gruff, but somehow still gentle. “Ava. Come on, time to get moving.”

I cling to sleep for a bit longer, and an unfamiliar warm palm settles on my shoulder, shaking me. His hand is warm, solid, and steady, and something about the way he touches me, careful and unhurried, sends a tiny shiver down my spine. I tell myself it’s just the cold air, not the man beside me.

My eyes finally flutter open, eyelashes sticking briefly as I pry my sleep-crusted lids apart. It takes a second to focus my gaze before I realize it’s Liam leaning over me, his features unreadable and those deep green eyes steadily locked on me.

“Fuck,” I groan groggily. “What time is it?” My voice is a sleepy rasp, tongue thick and sluggish. God, my breath must be terrible right now. I self-consciously angle my head a bit away from him.

“Six,” He pauses, then adds with a slight frown, “in the evening.”

I blink hard, processing his words, my sense of time twisting inside my head. Six P.M.? I sit upright too fast, head spinning like it’s tied to a carousel.

“God, no wonder I feel like death.”

He straightens, giving me space. “We’ve got a long drive ahead. Twelve hours again, plus stops for Eli.”

I sigh, rubbing my temples as my body argues stubbornly that it should still be morning. My muscles are stiff, limbs heavy, exhaustion pulling at every part of me like gravity’s determined to drag me back down into the bed. I swear, five hours of sleep have done absolutely nothing.

Liam watches me as I swing my legs off the bed and drag myself upright, moving past him toward the bathroom.

His eyes track me in a way that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

I grab the bag from the dresser, trying not to notice that there are two other sets of eyes watching my movements.

There’s heat crawling up the back of my neck as I turn away.

I don’t know what they’re thinking, but part of me feels it—that awareness.

That shift in the air when men start seeing you not just as a responsibility. .. but as something else.

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I waste no time and strip, stepping under the warm shower spray.

The weak water pressure barely qualifies as a drizzle, but it’s enough to chase off the lingering chill and clear away some of the fog in my head.

As I lather shampoo through my tangled hair, I catch my reflection in the cracked, foggy mirror opposite the shower, features blurred but visible enough to show dark circles that are now permanent residents beneath my eyes.

God, I look wrecked.

When I finally turn off the shower, steam fills the tiny room, thick enough to choke the stale smell of mildew away.

I towel off, skin still prickling from the heat.

My clean clothes are soft against my damp skin as I pull them on, shoving yesterday’s wrinkled, dirty clothes into the far corner of my bag, yet another reminder of our unsettled life.

I finger-comb my wet curls, giving up when they resist any sense of order, and then open the door.

The steam follows me in a thick cloud, swirling briefly into the small motel room where the men have gathered near the front door, heads bowed closely together.

Their low murmurs cut off sharply when they notice me standing there, eyebrows raised.

Cole’s expression is unreadable, Jax shoots me a playful wink, and Liam just stares, unreadable as ever. But whatever they were discussing clearly wasn’t for my ears, and that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“Secret meeting?” My voice is dry, edged with caution despite the attempt at humor. No one answers me.

Cole moves first, glancing briefly at Liam, then at me. Without a word, he slips out the motel door, letting it swing closed behind him with a quiet click. Unease curls in my stomach.

“Where’s Cole going?”

Liam stays quiet, still watching me. It’s Jax who answers, giving me an easy smile.

“Breakfast run. Thought you could handle getting Eli ready while he grabs some food.”

“Nothing like a biscuit at sunset,” Jax says. “Breakfast for dinner is a sacred thing.”

My nerves ease, even if I don’t love that they were clearly strategizing something they don’t want me to know about. But food is food, and God knows we need it. I nod once, moving toward the bed.

Eli’s still curled up, face peaceful and serene, the innocence of sleep smoothing the usually bright-eyed mischief from his features.

My heart aches gently at the sight. He deserves better than this, better than running, better than constant uncertainty.

I sit on the bed, rubbing his shoulder gently.

“Eli, baby, wake up.”

He groans, burrowing deeper into the pillow. “Mmmm...five more minutes.”

“You sound like Mommy,” I murmur, smiling despite myself. “Come on, Eli. Gotta get going, sweetheart.”

He sits up, curls flattened adorably on one side of his head.

Sleepy blue eyes blink heavily at me as he rubs his fists across them, yawning wide enough that I can count every one of his tiny teeth.

My chest tightens. No matter how hard this is, seeing him safe, even if exhausted, is worth every sacrifice.

I lead him into the bathroom, helping him wash up and brush his teeth. It takes longer than needed, considering I have to maneuver him myself since he’s determined to stay half-asleep.

A while later, Eli drags his feet back out of the bathroom, going and dropping onto the bed with another dramatic sigh. Wearing basketball shorts and a cartoon shirt, he’s still half-asleep, eyes blinking as he stares blearily around the motel room.

He stays like that until the motel door opens. Cole finally returns, carrying a white paper bag smelling faintly of biscuits and grease, and Eli’s suddenly fully awake. He scrambles upright on the bed, eyes wide and excited.

“Food!”

Cole’s mouth twitches into something resembling a smile as he hands over a wrapped white bundle. “Dig in, kid.”

I take a biscuit for myself when he passes it to me, my stomach growling as Eli eagerly tears into his own, crumbs scattering everywhere. I don’t hesitate to down mine either, happily accepting the bottle of orange juice that Cole also passes each of us.

God, I’m grateful to these men for this tiny kindness. My wallet is a hella thin, anxious weight tucked safely at the bottom of my bag, each dollar counted and re-counted. It’s impossible not to stress over every cent. The fact that they’re buying breakfast is something I can’t take.

When I finally finish eating, I move behind Eli and set to work with a brush through his tangled curls, pausing only when he protests dramatically around a mouthful of biscuit.

“You’re pulling my hair, Mommy,” he whines.

“I’m trying to make you look less like a caveman, honey. Hold still.”

“Cavemen are cool, mommy. They fought dinosaurs.”

Jax snorts, leaning against the dresser, biscuit halfway to his mouth. “He’s not wrong, Ava. Cavemen are badass.” He winks at me over the rim of his coffee, that lazy grin tugging at his mouth like he knows exactly how charming he is and how annoyed I am that it’s working.

“Don’t encourage him,” I mutter dryly, but Eli giggles, leaning back into me and shooting Jax a playful grin.

God, the kid’s falling hard for them already.

And the worst part? I get it. They’re strong, attentive, even kind in moments that matter.

It’s the kind of thing that makes you want to lean in.

Even when your gut tells you to keep your distance.