Page 45 of The SEALs' Single Mom Baby Surprise

She was such a good mom straight from the start.

“Where are we going?” Reese asks, pulling me out of the memories.

I peek at her in the mirror again. She’s studying the street out ahead of us.

“We’re going to my house.”

“Because someone broke our door to go through our stuff?” This little girl understands far too much for her age.

“Yes. I can keep you and your mom safe at my house until we find them.”

She meets my gaze in the mirror and gives me a short nod before peering out the driver’s side window.

Her nonchalance makes me smile. Sloane is setting a good example for her.

When we pull up to my house, she makes big eyes at me. “You have a big house.”

“Yeah. Always meant to fill it up.” I grab her backpack and walk her inside. “You got homework?”

Reese squints at me. “No. I did it already.”

“I’ve got coloring books and crayons on the kitchen table.”

Those green eyes light up. “Just for me?”

“Just for you.” I lead her to the table and set her bag down. “Do you eat steak?”

She settles in a seat, opening the new box of crayons. “Sometimes.”

Probably small portions, mixed with other things. I lay out the steak to come to room temperature as I prep tortillas, cheese, tomatoes, peppers, and onions. Most kids will eat handheld food, so quesadillas it is.

Reese helps me set the table as the steak rests as my men arrive with Sloane. The way that woman catalogs every item in my entryway turns something over in my chest.

Even as everyone bustles to finish their pre-dinner ritual and I assemble and melt the quesadillas, Sloane examines everything available to her. It’s almost like she’s studying the relic this house has become. That I’ve become.

She finally snaps out of it when we sit to eat, running a hand over Reese’s hair and leaning down to kiss the top of her head with affection. Like I’d kissed the top of hers just last night. Worry melts away as dinner passes and she listens to Reese recounting her day, learning about goods and services. They’re planning to take her on a trip to the nearby local grocer next week.

We’re all wrapped up in Reese recounting her day until she plainly asks, “Can I watch some TV?”

Sloane purses her mouth and looks at me.

I shrug. “Only gets basic channels, but I’ve got a VCR and some tapes.”

Reese frowns. “What’s a VCR?”

That breaks Sloane, and her laughter is sweet. “Something that plays recorded movies.”

“Like Disney Plus?”

“Kind of. Maybe Sterling can show you.”

I offer Reese a smile and a nod toward the living room. “Yeah. Come on. I actually have some Disney movies on tape.”

Reese looks doubtful, but she follows me to the couch. “You like princess movies?”

“Yes.”

“You like books?”

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