The Man Who Has No Love (Soulless 3)

“No.” I explained the story to him, talking about it for the first time since it happened, and it pissed me off all over again. Time apart should have dulled my rage and made me sane again, but it didn’t.

“Oh man…” Tucker was quiet again.

“I feel fucking stupid. I feel fucking betrayed. I feel… I don’t even see her the same way.”

Instead of getting angry with Cleo for what she did, he seemed lifeless. “Do you believe her? That she didn’t know he was married?”

I shrugged.

“And Jake said they slept together that one night, but she says it didn’t happen?”

“Yeah…a lot of he said, she said bullshit. The reason I fell for her was because I thought that kind of bullshit wasn’t attached to her price. But she’s just like Valerie…”

“I wouldn’t say that, man.”

“She had plenty of time to tell me all this herself, and it would have made a big difference. But she didn’t. She didn’t give me all of her. This relationship has been one-sided since the beginning. I wasn’t with anyone for months before we got together…and she runs off with some jackass the second I turn her down?” I shook my head. “I thought we had more than that.”

“Deacon?”

I stared at him.

“I admit all of this is shitty, but maybe you should give her—”

“When Valerie first told me, I didn’t believe it. I said I had to talk to Cleo first because I thought she would straighten everything out. But it was all true.”

“What about when she said she didn’t know he was married? Do you believe her?”

“She lied to me about other things. Why should I believe her?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s difficult. She doesn’t strike me as someone who would sleep with a married man, but also she doesn’t strike me as someone who would sleep with a client, so I don’t know…”

I stared at the bottle, seeing the emptiness. “I believe her…”

Tucker watched me. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Maybe that’s stupid…but I do.”

“And what about when she hooked up with him again? You believe she didn’t sleep with him?”

I didn’t want to picture her with anyone else. Whether they kissed or fucked, the action was just as painful. “Yes.”

“So…you do trust her.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, Tucker… I really don’t.”

“Does that mean it’s over?” he whispered.

“I told her I needed space.”

“But you’re still just as pissed off now as you were then.”

“Yeah…” I had a feeling that wouldn’t change.

Tucker didn’t try to convince me to take her back. He didn’t inject his opinions into anything, understanding this was a volatile situation. “How do you think she’s doing?”

“I really don’t know.”

“You want me to go check on her?”

“No. Stay out of it, Tucker. This is between us—not you.” I wasn’t even sure if there was an us anymore.

Tucker looked sad, devastated. “I’m really sorry about all of this, Deacon. I know you’re in a lot of pain.”

I stared at the bottle, unable to meet his gaze. “It was too soon for me to be in a relationship again. I should have waited longer…or not bothered at all.” I released the bottle and leaned back against the chair, my eyes turning to the window.

“I know it’s not my place to say, but I don’t agree with that. I think she had a secret she was scared to share, and she just didn’t handle it well. Everything else about her is real—it’s still real.”

“If it was real, she should have just told me.”

“If she did, would it have changed anything?”

It would have made me uncomfortable, but I would have bounced back after a couple days. “No.”

“Then why should it change anything now?”

Fourteen

Cleo

Three weeks had come and gone.

And Deacon never contacted me.

That was a pretty clear sign he didn’t want me anymore.

It hurt so much.

I hadn’t returned to the building since I was fired, so all the clients knew about my dismissal. That meant Deacon knew—and he still didn’t care.

That hurt most of all, that he didn’t even check on me.

Finding a new job was pretty much impossible. I couldn’t get into the hospitality industry because I didn’t have any experience without including my past job on my resume. If I mentioned it anyway and they called, they would know I got fired for a terrible transgression. They wouldn’t hire me then, so what was the point.

But I was running out of money fast, even when I hardly ate, and since the job prospects were getting worse and worse, I knew I had to move. There would never be a time in the future when I would make enough to live there again, so I found a place in Brooklyn that allowed a month-to-month lease.

I wasn’t sure if I would stay in New York.

With no college education and minimal professional experience, I couldn’t find a job with a high enough income to support me, and that meant I needed to move somewhere with lower living expenses. I still had an aunt in a rural area of Washington, just forty-five minutes outside of Seattle. I could move in with her and start over.