Page 15 of Single Mom’s Navy Seals (Claimed by the Alphas #2)

Silence stretches between us, comfortable yet heavy with unspoken thoughts. My curiosity about Cole is a surprising distraction from my spiraling fears, though. My gaze drifts down to the book he’s holding loosely in one hand, his finger marking his place.

“Can I ask what you’re reading?” I finally whisper hesitantly, breaking the silence, almost afraid my question will disturb the quiet calm of the moment.

Without a word, Cole rises fluidly from his seat on the AC unit, unfolding his tall, solid frame with surprising grace.

As he moves closer, my pulse picks up just a bit, awareness prickling along my skin in a reaction that surprises me.

He stands beside the bed, close enough that I can feel his presence like a gentle, reassuring warmth, yet careful to maintain an innocent distance.

Holding out the small, battered book, he tilts it so I can clearly see the title: Oliver Twist. The familiar title catches me off guard, pulling a quiet laugh from my lips.

“Dickens?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

He shrugs, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He shrugs, a sheepish, almost shy grin pulling at his lips. “Yeah. It’s not exactly thrilling stuff, but… there’s something about the way he tells stories. Even when things are bleak, there’s always hope. Some kind of fight still burning underneath.”

The words hit something soft in me. I look up at him, really look—and it clicks. Of course, Cole would love Dickens. He’s not flashy or loud, but steady and layered. Quietly intense. And unexpectedly thoughtful.

“That makes sense,” I say, my voice a little softer than I meant it to be. “You seem like someone who sees more than they say.”

His eyes meet mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing between us—something warm and charged.

“Maybe,” he murmurs, then tucks the book into the inside pocket of his worn leather jacket.

I’m suddenly aware of how close he is, how his presence doesn’t make my skin crawl but settles over me like warmth from a fireplace. And for a fleeting moment, I wonder what it might feel like to be held by someone like him—someone who doesn’t need to speak to make you feel safe.

“You hungry?” he asks, the quiet sincerity in his voice making my stomach flutter.

“Yes,” I admit honestly, managing a faint smile in return. “And Eli will definitely be starving when he wakes up. He’s not exactly a morning person—more like a ravenous bear waking from hibernation.”

Cole chuckles, the warm, deep sound sending another gentle shiver down my spine.

“I’ll go get breakfast for everyone,” he offers quietly. “It’ll be good to eat something before we hit the road again.”

I nod gratefully, hugging the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Thank you, Cole. That sounds perfect.”

He hesitates a moment, considering, then reaches for his wrist, slipping off his watch. He holds it out toward me, his expression gentle.

“Here,” he says, placing the watch into my palm. His fingers brush mine, sending warmth flooding through me. “Wake Jax and Liam at five forty-five. You can toss a pillow at them or something—they’re both pretty light sleepers.”

I smile faintly, glancing toward the sleeping forms across the room.

“Thanks for the tip,” I reply, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “I’ll try not to aim too hard.”

Cole’s lips twitch into another subtle smile, his expression softening warmly. He lingers a moment longer, simply watching me, before turning toward the door. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises, voice reassuring as he slips silently outside, the door clicking shut behind him.

Left alone again, I lie back down, staring at the cracked ceiling tiles above me. My mind churns restlessly, thoughts tumbling endlessly over one another. Randy’s threat, Eli’s safety, and these three men who are trying their best to slip past my erected barrier around my heart.

I squeeze Cole’s watch in my hand, the metal warm from his wrist. The simple weight of it feels oddly comforting, grounding me. Closing my eyes, I allow myself a small moment of quiet, trying to quiet the anxious voices screaming inside my mind.

When I open my eyes again, my gaze settles on Eli, still sleeping peacefully beside me.

My heart swells painfully at his innocence, his trust. He deserves better than this constant fear, this never-ending cycle of running and hiding.

And strangely, I find myself starting to believe that Liam, Jax, and Cole might genuinely be able to give us that—if I can just find the courage to trust them fully.

Sighing, I glance down at Cole’s watch again. Five forty-three. Close enough.

Forcing myself to sit up, I run a hand through my snarled waves.

Grabbing my pillow, I lift it with the intention of tossing it.

Then, my gaze drifts across the room to Liam, still slumped in the chair, head tilted to one side, clearly exhausted even in sleep.

Guilt twinges faintly in my chest. He drove all day yesterday, and he obviously needs more rest. Throwing a pillow at him like Cole suggested seems unnecessarily rude.

Decided, I climb out of the bed, not worried about waking Eli. He’s always been an incredibly heavy sleeper; nothing wakes that kid.

I won’t wake him just yet anyway. I’d rather not deal with the daily morning tantrum until Cole returns with breakfast, which I can use to distract my child.

So, I creep across the room, my bare feet sinking into the thin motel carpet, heart beating just a bit faster with every step.

Carefully, I reach out, touching Liam’s shoulder.

My intention is gentle, but it doesn’t seem to matter because the reaction is instant and intense.

His eyes snap open immediately, wild and cold for a split second, every muscle in his body tensing.

Before I can react, his large hand grips my wrist firmly, pulling me forward into an offensive hold.

Suddenly, I find myself face-to-face, chest-to-chest with him, practically straddling him in the chair.

My heart pounds wildly—not from fear, but from something entirely unexpected and deeply, mortifyingly intense. Heat floods my body, spreading like wildfire, pooling low in my belly. Liam’s strength beneath me is solid and overpowering, his fingers gripping my wrist, his eyes boring into mine.

I feel everything—his chest rising against mine, the raw heat of his body, the unmistakable press of him against my inner thigh.

A sharp breath escapes my lips, and my hips shift before I can stop them.

Without thinking, my hips shift instinctively closer.

Liam groans, low and rough, a sound that sends a shiver racing through me.

It snaps us both out of it. His eyes go wide, and then he jerks back like I burned him, pushing me upright.

“What the hell were you doing so close?” he snaps. His voice is harsh, but not steady. There’s something tight and unsettled in it. My face burns fiercely, embarrassment and irritation swirling chaotically inside me.

“Cole told me to wake you guys up,” I snap defensively, folding my arms across my chest. Liam glances around, noticing Cole’s absence immediately, eyes narrowing accusingly.

“Where’s Cole?” he asks, his voice rising enough to rouse Jax, who shifts sleepily on the couch, blinking in confusion at us.

“He went to get breakfast,” I reply through clenched teeth, sharpening my tone. “He told me to wake you both.”

“Oh, cool, where did he—” Jax chimes.

“Cole told you to touch me to wake me up?” Liam interrupts Jax with a skeptical and unnecessarily furious look.

What the hell is his problem? Yeah, Cole told me to throw something, and I didn’t listen, but does he have to be such a dick?

I cut my eyes away from Liam’s heavy stare, but that just forces me to make eye contact with Jax, who is looking at both of us with a slight smirk as he finally seems to process the scene.

Gritting my teeth, I pull my eyes back to Liam’s and give him the meanest glare I can possibly muster.

“No,” I snap irritably. “He said to throw a pillow at you.”

His gaze remains accusing, voice tight with irritation. “Then why didn’t you listen?”

My temper finally snaps, mortification fueling my anger. “Excuse me for not wanting to be a dick first thing in the morning by smacking you with a pillow. You looked exhausted, Liam. I was trying to be nice, something you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

He glares silently, lips pressed together. I meet his gaze stubbornly, refusing to back down, humiliation and frustration warring inside me.

“Fine,” I spit out, turning on my heel toward the bathroom. “Next time, I’ll happily throw whatever I can reach right at your head!”

I storm away, slamming the bathroom door shut behind me, my heart pounding furiously. Leaning against the cool wood, embarrassment floods me, making my eyes burn with frustrated tears. My body betrays me completely—pulse racing, core throbbing, and a humiliating ache pooling low within me.