“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.”

Without Susan and Bob’s solid presence, without the Mavericks going to bat for him, he would have remained the kid his father hated. The Mavericks and the Spencers had helped him to value his love of learning.

Who had helped Ari?

“Rosie and Chi sound like your Mavericks. They kept me sane in an insane world. We all need people to help us through.”

He allowed himself one gentle touch, taking her hand in his. He couldn’t be with her again, but there was something else he could do. Something that would mean the world to her.

“I can help you find your brother.”

Chapter Fourteen

Ari wasn’t a speechless kind of girl, but Matt stole the words from her lips.

I can help you find your brother.

Matt Tremont was a man who made the impossible possible. Look where he’d come from—a childhood where there wasn’t enough to eat and his feet had nearly frozen through the holes in his shoes. That had to be why he was so good to the people who worked for him, respectful with Doreen, and sweet with Cookie. Now this, an offer to help return her brother to her.

She simply nodded, with all her gratitude shining in her gaze.

“What have you learned so far?” He squeezed her hand, and his comfort touched her deep inside.

Finally, she found her voice. “I started looking for him about three years ago.” With her college tuition, books, and day-to-day living, even with Daniel’s fabulous scholarships, it had taken a long time to put a little money in a savings account.

After her mom died, she’d been shuffled between so many foster homes she couldn’t count the parents or the kids. She was like a transient, losing everything again after a few weeks or months. Between her mom and foster care, she’d learned to live and pack light. She’d run out of places to hide her meager stash from the other kids. Another lesson in traveling light: They couldn’t steal what you didn’t have. One of the fathers had tried to molest her, but she’d been able to get out of there fast, mostly because she’d had so little to take with her.

She’d not only survived, but she’d been lucky to find Rosie and Chi, her best friends in all the world. After high school, when Daniel had given her the job at Top-Notch, she’d lived paycheck to paycheck, and she’d clung to the little studio like she did to Rosie and Chi. In a world where she’d never had anything, the small room was hers, a hideaway, a place to run to. And it was the only place where Gideon could find her, if he ever got one of her letters.

“I didn’t know whether he’d gone into the Army, Navy, or Air Force, so I called them all. I even went to recruiting offices for help. Finally, someone was able to tell me that he was in the Army, but he’d gotten out nine years ago.” She’d spent hours on library computers until she’d saved enough from Daniel’s scholarships for a laptop she’d waited for six hours in a Black Friday line to buy. “I’ve used free people searches and a few cheap subscriptions. I sent emails and letters, or called if I could find a phone number.” She felt as helpless after three years of searching as she had in the beginning. “But nothing.”