And she’d entered the foster care system. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged, and he knew that shrug. It was what you learned to do when you were used to losing everything. It was the shrug you gave when you had to suck it up and move on with your life, even if it felt like there weren’t a hell of a lot of reasons to keep moving anymore.
“How did you lose your parents?” he asked softly.
She swallowed. “My dad died in a car accident when I was real little. Mom never got over it. The only thing that made her feel better was drugs.”
A deep ache curled around his internal organs. His hands itched to comfort her. If Noah hadn’t been glued to the TV in the same room, he might have given in. But he could only listen, the way she’d listened to his story about Irene.
“She started losing jobs all the time. We moved around a lot. Gideon remembered the good times, and he used to tell me about them. But I didn’t remember my dad. I only remembered my mother…like that. When Gideon turned eighteen, he joined up so he could take care of us. He said he’d send money.”
“But he never did?” It must have been a huge double blow.
“I’m sure he tried. But we got kicked out of our place right after he left.” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t think my mom’s landlord ever told him where we’d gone. I’m not even sure if my mom gave the guy any information to pass on.”
His heart broke for her. She’d never even had a childhood. His chest ached with his inability to reach out and fold her into his arms.
“How old were you when she died?”
“Twelve.” She blinked slowly. “It was a drug overdose. They tried to find Gideon, but Jones isn’t exactly an uncommon name. I didn’t know which branch of the service he’d gone into. I didn’t even know if he was still in the military.”
Jesus, what she’d been through—a drug-addicted mother, losing her brother, losing her home over and over, never feeling safe. He saw clearly now why she empathized so easily with Noah’s pain over his mother’s aborted visit. And with him.
In so many ways, their childhoods mirrored each other—the instability, never knowing how his dad would react, a mother who was emotionally absent. They’d both been abandoned. But he’d found the Mavericks and Susan and Bob. Whereas Ari had gone into the foster care system.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again, knowing his words were completely inadequate. “How were your foster homes?”
He got another shrug. “I got moved around a lot, but I was used to that after living with my mom.” She deliberately left out every detail but that one.
Yet another thing they had in common—Matt never gave people the details of his shitty childhood either. He didn’t want their pity. And he didn’t like to have to go back there, even in his head, if he didn’t have to.
“But I met some really good friends,” she continued in a brighter tone. “I don’t know what I’d do without Rosie and Chi.”
He saw so many things now. Her desire to help with the youth home for foster kids coming of age was rooted in her own experience. He called Bob and Susan his foster parents, but they were far more than that. They were Mom and Dad. A kid needed tremendous luck to find people like the Spencers.
But though Ari hadn’t been lucky, she was resilient. She’d taken care of herself all on her own. She’d grown and thrived. She was bright and enthusiastic and full of joy, laughter, and hope. They came from the same beginnings, but while Ari had the strength to step out into the light, too often Matt still remained in the darkness of his past.
That was the biggest reason why he needed to leave her alone. Drawn to Ari’s brightness as if he needed to feed off her, Matt knew he could so easily drag her down. Just as Irene had always accused him of doing to her.
But God, how he admired Ari for the woman she’d made herself into. “You’re amazing.”
She tilted her head, her lips parted. And he felt the denial coming. But he wouldn’t let her say it.
“My parents were alive,” he told her, “but we barely had enough money to eat sometimes. We lived in Chicago, and usually my coat and boots had holes in them when I walked to school.” There’d been so much worse, but he wouldn’t burden her with his father’s cruelty or his mother’s indifference. He just needed her to know she wasn’t alone. “I understand how hard it is. But the Mavericks and I had Daniel’s parents. Without them, I wouldn’t be here.”
She shook her head, her hair falling over her shoulder. “You’d have found a way.”