“He was such a good guy. Never into party
ing or drinking or anything. We just used to hang out.”
He was silent even when he wanted to prompt her.
“When I was maybe six months pregnant, he went to a party with his cousin. I didn’t go. I was huge and the pregnancy was complicated.” She swallowed, and Ra’if could see the memories were painful. He reached across, putting a hand over hers. She smiled at the gesture, and stroked her thumb distractedly over the back of his hand. “I guess it happened that night.”
“He cheated on you?” Ra’if demanded, instantly incensed.
“God, no. Would that he had!” She grimaced. “He tried some cocaine.”
Ra’if was very still. His eyes clung to her face. His heart was hammering hard in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“I didn’t know. But I guess with some people … it’s just … really addictive. Or maybe he has that personality. I don’t know, Ra’if.” She squeezed his hand. “I felt like a complete idiot. By the time Jordan was born, Brent was unrecognisable. He couldn’t get out of bed without doing a line. It didn’t take long before he moved onto heroine, pills. Whatever he could get his hands on.”
Whatever he could get his hands on.
Ra’if knew what that was like.
“What happened?”
She swallowed. “He told me he’d sort himself out. He wanted to be with us.” She shook her head. “He wanted to be a good father.”
“But?”
“I guess he wanted to be a drug addict more,” she said thickly. Her eyes were round like saucers when she lifted her face to his. “It was a long time ago.”
“You still love him?” Ra’if prompted, wondering at the way his own body seemed to reject that idea with a visceral strength.
“No. Not for me.” She bit down on her lip. “I mean, I still love who he was. I love the boy I used to know. But it’s been five years. He’s lived on the streets for most of those.”
“You don’t see him?”
“I try. I got him into rehab last week. I thought it would be a breakthrough.”
A muscle jerked in Ra’if’s cheek. “It wasn’t.”
“No. He left. Checked himself out. I don’t know where he is now.”
He expelled a soft sigh. He was uniquely placed to empathise with her, having treaded the same path as Jordan’s father. “Which facility did you get him into?”
She grimaced. “Angel of Light? It’s just an hour away. It’s meant to be okay, and it doesn’t cost the earth because it’s part subsidised, to get kids off the streets and off drugs. There’s vocational training, counselling, all of the things that I thought would make a big difference to him.”
“He wasn’t ready,” Ra’if murmured. “That’s not your fault.”
“I know it’s not. It’s just … Jordan really wants to spend time with his father. He’s only met him a couple of times, you know? And now he’s five, he’s got this idea that he wants us to be a ‘normal’ family, like all his friends are part of.”
Ra’if nodded slowly. “And do you want that?”
She pierced him with her eyes and for the first time since meeting her he glimpsed sadness and grief in them. “No.” She shook her head. “I could never be with an addict. Even a recovered one. I’ve seen too much of drugs to know how easily then can take over. I deserve better. So does Jordan.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Her words tormented him. Long after he’d invented an excuse and abruptly left Melinda’s living tribute to Santa Clause, he’d thought of her statement, and he’d cringed. Because it proved what he should have known all along.
He was damaged goods.
Someone like Melinda would never look at him as a serious interest.