Page 5 of Single Mom’s Navy Seals (Claimed by the Alphas #2)

“See, sweetie?” I say, kneeling to Eli’s level. “Rocket will have something good to eat until we come back. We’ll come back for him soon, I promise.”

The promise feels heavy and wrong, an assurance I have no right to make, but Eli needs comfort, needs something to cling to. His eyes search mine, desperate to believe me, even though confusion clouds his small face.

“You promise?” he whispers, clutching the edge of my sweater even tighter.

“I promise,” I repeat, forcing as much conviction as I can into my voice. My stomach churns, knowing the lie could shatter his trust completely. But I have no choice. Right now, my only priority is getting him safely away from here.

Eli nods, wiping the tears from his cheeks, bravery shining through despite his lingering fear. He grabs his favorite stuffed bear from the couch, holding it against his chest, as if it alone can protect him from what’s coming next.

“Ready, baby?” I ask, reaching for his hand.

He nods bravely again, gripping my fingers with fierce determination. “Ready, Mommy.”

We step toward the door, my heart pounding harder with each step. The cabin, once a sanctuary filled with warmth and safety, now feels foreign, a place of danger and uncertainty. The memories we’ve built here tug painfully at my heart, but there’s no time to linger.

I glance back one last time, my eyes catching the image of Rocket’s bowl, the tuna waiting untouched. My throat tightens, emotion threatening to choke me, but I force it down.

“Okay, Eli,” I say, my voice shaking. “Time for our adventure.”

Holding onto my son’s hand, I open the door, stepping out into uncertainty, leaving everything we’ve known behind.

Eli’s small, trusting face tilts up at me, filled with a mixture of courage and sadness.

I can tell part of him doesn’t fully believe my adventure lie.

My son is so smart, too smart for his age in many ways.

God, would it be better to just tell him the truth?

I’ve kept the truth about his father, the truth about me, the truth about our life from him since he was born.

It always felt like the better thing to do, but for the first time, I’m starting to wonder if lying isn’t just causing more damage.

My throat tightens, emotion threatening to choke me, but I force it down.

The car sits at the edge of the driveway, keys cold and heavy in my hand as I unlock the doors.

Eli climbs into his booster seat, his small frame dwarfed by the booster seat’s padding and straps.

My fingers fumble with the buckle, and I force myself to slow down, inhaling deeply until the latch clicks firmly into place.

Eli’s eyes follow my movements silently, waiting patiently for the reassurance he needs but won’t ask for aloud.

“All set?” I ask, brushing the hair from his forehead, the silky strands slipping through my fingers.

He nods, his expression solemn. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” I promise, praying that it’s true.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I glance at the old GPS.

The outdated display flashes to life, a relic from the last time I fled with nothing but a duffel bag and a baby kicking inside me.

It was supposed to be a symbol of a new beginning, a chance at freedom.

Now it just feels like a cruel joke, looping me back to where I started five years ago.

I shift into drive, glancing in the rearview mirror as the cabin shrinks behind us.

My pulse quickens, anxiety coiling in my chest. How many times have I dreamed of leaving this cabin behind?

Always under the triumphant image of Randy’s downfall, of victory and safety.

Not like this, running again with nothing but fear driving us forward.

Silence fills the car, heavy and oppressive as I pull onto the main road that connects our small plot of private forest to the nearest interstate.

My heart pounds in rhythm with the tires rolling over the rough pavement.

The road winds endlessly ahead, every mile putting distance between us and the fragile safety we’d clung to for five years.

Fear gnaws at the edges of my mind, relentless and unforgiving.

Forty-five minutes pass in a blur, the fuel gauge dipping steadily toward empty, forcing me to face the reality of stopping.

A gas station appears on the horizon, the neon lights blinking unevenly in the dimming twilight.

Pulling up beside a worn pump, I switch off the engine, anxiety fluttering in my stomach.

Eli stirs as the car falls silent, blinking sleepily at me. “Are we there?”

“Not yet, buddy. But we need to get gas, okay?”

He yawns widely, stretching his small arms above his head. “Can I stay here?”

“Not this time.” My voice is gentle but firm, fighting the urge to give in. I won’t risk losing sight of him, not even for a second. “Come on, we can get snacks inside, too.”

His eyes light up at the mention of snacks, chasing away some of the lingering shadows from his face. “Okay.”

I hold his hand as we cross the cracked asphalt, the fluorescent lights humming loudly above us. The small convenience store attached to the station is nearly deserted, shelves stocked haphazardly, candy and chips scattered among automotive supplies and cheap souvenirs.

I slip my debit card into the ATM, heart sinking as the balance flashes on screen. Five hundred dollars. Barely enough to get us far, let alone start over. Swallowing my disappointment, I shove the cash into my wallet, aware that Eli’s curious gaze follows my every move.

“Mommy, can I get candy?” he asks hesitantly, eyes flicking toward the brightly colored display at the end of the aisle. Usually, sugar is a treat reserved for birthdays or special occasions, but tonight feels painfully different.

“Sure,” I say, forcing a smile. “Pick whatever you want.”

His eyes widen in disbelief, but he doesn’t question it, scampering toward the candy display with quiet excitement. I watch him for a moment, guilt tightening my chest again. It feels wrong to reward him with sweets when I’m the reason we’re here, running from shadows I can’t escape.

Eli selects a candy bar and a small bag of gummy bears, holding them out proudly. “These okay?”

“Perfect,” I tell him, taking his hand again. “We’ll need some water, too.”

We gather a few bottles, and I grab a handful of granola bars, my mind already calculating how far we can stretch the money. As we head to the counter, Eli peers up at me, voice small but curious.

“How long will our adventure be?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit honestly, placing our items in front of the tired-looking cashier. “Adventures can be unpredictable. But that’s part of the fun, right?”

He considers my answer for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. “Will we meet new people?”

My stomach twists at the innocence of the question. He deserves friends, stability, and a home that doesn’t change overnight. But I can’t promise him any of those things, not right now.

“Maybe,” I say, trying to keep my voice hopeful. Meeting new people honestly sounds great. “It’s always possible.”

He smiles faintly, satisfied for now, and I hand over a portion of our dwindling cash. The cashier bags our items wordlessly, barely sparing us a glance.

Moments later, the tank is filled and we’re back on the road. The GPS illuminating once more, casting eerie blue shadows across the dashboard. My gaze flicks to the mirror again, the gas station already fading behind us. Eli unwraps his candy bar, careful not to drop any crumbs.

“You okay?” I ask, meeting his eyes briefly in the mirror.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, offering a tiny smile. “Adventures are fun.”

“They sure can be,” I whisper, tightening my grip on the wheel. My eyes stay locked forward, fixed on the endless road ahead, darkness closing in around us.

This isn’t the adventure I promised him. It’s not the life he deserves. But for now, it’s all I can offer—uncertainty, fear, and a desperate hope that this time we might find the safety I failed to give him before.