The Man Who Has No Soul

by Victoria Quinn

  And Deacon wouldn’t want him in a cab.

  He finished half his sandwich. “Will I see my dad soon?”

  “Yes, in thirty minutes.”

  He looked out the window, his feet dangling above the floor.

  I texted Deacon. Are you alone right now?

  He texted back with lightning speed. Yes. Are you alright?

  I’m fine. I’m delivering something to your apartment in thirty minutes. Just wanted to give you a heads-up. I didn’t want to bring Derek if he had a lady friend over. That would be a terrible reunion.

  You? As in, you’re in New York?

  I didn’t text him back. I’d already said too much.

  He texted again. Cleo?

  Just be ready. I’ll talk to you soon. I put my phone back into my bag then looked at Derek.

  He was asleep.

  I watched him for a while, admiring how cute he was. I already loved this boy, and I’d only spent a few hours with him. It was just a fraction of how Deacon felt about him, and I couldn’t wait to see his face when he finally held him in his arms.

  We pulled up to the building minutes later, and I took Derek’s luggage and his hand as we headed to the elevator.

  “Is this where my dad lives?” He wiped the sleep from his eyes.

  “Yes.” When we were in the elevator, I released his hand and held on to the luggage, my heart beating so fast. I was nervous when I had no reason to be. I was just so excited, so happy to give Deacon the one thing he wanted more than anything.

  The doors opened, and we walked down the hallway together, the wheels rolling over the rug audibly. When we made it to his door, I took a deep breath. “Here we are.” I knocked.

  “It’s open.”

  I left the luggage in the hallway and turned to Derek. “Just give me a sec, okay?”

  He nodded.

  I stepped inside the penthouse and kept the door cracked.

  Deacon rose from the dining table, wearing his sweatpants and a black shirt. He walked toward me, his eyes roaming over my body like he was searching for injuries. He came closer to me then stopped, confusion and relief on his face.

  “I got you something for your birthday. But I wanted to give it to you now.”

  He stood there, silent. His arms hung by his sides, and he stared at me with that intense expression, like he wanted to say a million things but couldn’t put them into words.

  I turned back to the door and opened it wider. “Derek, come in and say hello to your father.”

  Derek walked inside and looked up at his father, his eyes widening as a boyish grin stretched across his lips. “Dad!” He sprinted to him, his face lit up brighter than all the Manhattan lights through the window.

  Deacon reacted instinctively, kneeling down to the floor to catch him. He shifted backward slightly at impact, but his arms wrapped around Derek tightly, catching him, gripping him. His expression wasn’t detached and intense anymore. Now, his reaction was uncontrollable, the shock etched into his features. He hugged his son, breathing hard, confused. “Derek?” He gripped him by the arms and pulled his son away slightly, so he could stare into his face, look at his son’s features, take a second to understand it was really Derek in his arms.

  “Dad, it’s me.” He chuckled as he looked into his father’s face.

  Within a single blink, Deacon’s eyes were wet, the emotion exploding without warning, a dormant volcano coming to life. He breathed hard, his face tinted red, the vein in his forehead protruding. Then his eyes watered more, the tears impossible to combat.

  This was exactly what I wanted.

  He stared at his son like he didn’t know what to say, how to convey everything he felt. His hands cupped Derek’s face before he placed his forehead against his son’s. “My boy.” He let the tears come down his cheeks freely, unafraid to cry in front of his son. “I missed you so much…” He pulled him tight against his chest, cupping the back of his head, his eyes closed as he squeezed.

  Derek kept his arms around his neck, his chin resting on his shoulder. “I missed you too, Dad…”

  Tears continued to pour down his cheeks. “I love you, son. I love you so much…”

  “I love you too.”

  The sight made my tears well up. I’d been working toward this for months, and the outcome was worth all the stress and effort. It was worth the fourteen-hour day I’d just had. I’d missed a lot of work to make this trip, but that didn’t matter. Not when I got to witness this.

  Now that my job was done, it was time for me to go. I quietly left the residence and placed Derek’s luggage by the door. Then I gently shut the door, letting Deacon have his privacy to have this moment with his son.

  I turned to walk away.

  The door flew open again.

  I turned back around, seeing Deacon standing there with wet cheeks, glistening eyes, and that intense gaze he gave me every single time he looked at me. I could feel the chaotic energy around him, all the emotion, all the stress. He was a wreck, stretched so thin.

  He came nearer to me, stopping until we were close together, almost as close as we were when we danced together. He held up his hands, breathing hard like he was struggling to find the words, wanted to convey everything he felt inside his chest but just couldn’t do it. It was too hard, too complicated.

  My eyes became wetter just watching him.

  He pressed his palms against his face and dragged his fingers down his cheeks, wiping away the shine that coated his skin. Then he pressed his palms together against his lips, sighing loudly because there was too much to get out, too much to explain. Then he reached out his hands again. “Thank you…” His nostrils flared as he breathed, like that wasn’t enough to show his gratitude, but he didn’t know what else to say.

  My hands moved to his, and I gripped them.

  He gripped me back, squeezing me tight. “Cleo…thank you so much.”

  My eyes continued to fill with tears, until they spilled over and traveled down my cheeks. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that…”

  He released another deep breath before he bowed his head.

  “Happy birthday, Deacon.”

  He lifted his head again and looked at me, his tears steadied. His eyes shifted back and forth as he looked into my face, like he hadn’t made the correlation until this moment.

  “I’ve got a fun weekend planned for you. I’ll take him back on Monday morning.”

  “How? How did you make this happen?”

  I smiled as I wiped the moisture away from the bottom of my eyes. “I told you I could do anything, Deacon. I meant it.” I would do anything and everything for my clients.

  His hands moved to hips, and he released a quiet breath, as if he didn’t know what to say, where to start. He dropped his hands and moved into me, his arms hooking around my body and pulling me into his chest. His chin rested on my head, and he squeezed me.

  I didn’t know what to do at first, didn’t understand what was happening. Deacon had barely touched me, had barely shaken my hand, only touched me when he had to. But now he gave me the hardest hug I’d ever received, the strongest, the most affectionate. His powerful arms were like steel bars of a cage, keeping me safe inside and keeping the danger outside his protection. His fingertips dug into my flesh, and he breathed hard as he held me, a slight tremor to his extremities.

  My arms circled his waist, and I rested my forehead against his chest, closing my eyes because it felt so good, so right. I smelled his natural scent, his body soap, his cologne, his masculinity. He was so hard, like a brick wall underneath that warm skin. I could feel his soul when I was this close to him, feel how gentle he was, how kind he was. The proximity made me feel like I knew him better, knew him in a way no one else ever could.

  He held me that way for a long time, as if he wanted to hug me as much as his son, as if I was just as important to him, as if I was his family too. His hands were so large on my small frame, powerful enough to break me in half.
r />   Now that I felt this, I never wanted to pull away. I was exhausted from my long day, emotionally drained from making this moment happen. But now, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay against his chest forever.

  Twenty-One

  Deacon

  It’d been a long time since I’d been able to be a father in person, do father-like things.

  But I picked it up like no time had passed.

  I had him brush his teeth before bed, change into his pajamas, and get into bed beside me.

  I could put him in a spare bedroom, but he wanted to sleep with me, and I didn’t want to spend a moment away from him—not when I had to return him on Monday. I lay beside him and stared at his peaceful face, cherished the sight because I’d missed it so much. It’d been almost four months since the last time I saw him—and he’d gotten bigger.

  I couldn’t believe I’d missed four months of his life.

  He was right beside me, but I still missed him.

  I wanted to see him every morning, get him ready for school, drop him off, and then pick him up again. I wanted to take him to museums, ball games, the planetarium. I wanted to be a father—all the time.

  Derek went to sleep instantly, exhausted from the long day he’d had.

  When Cleo told me she was traveling to California, I was worried about her, a beautiful woman traveling on her own. I had no idea this was her plan, that she took time out of her life to give me the best birthday gift ever.

  How did she talk Valerie into it? I couldn’t get her to stop screaming at me for thirty seconds.

  My phone vibrated with a text message, so I rolled over to look at it.

  It was Cleo. The car will pick you up at 8.

  Where are we going?

  The cabin, of course.

  I smiled at her words, unable to believe she’d made such a difficult time in my life amazing. Thank you.

  Wow, I’m not used to you saying this.

  Well, get used to it. Because I owe you for the rest of my life.

  The next morning, he was up before I was, his small voice whispering to me. “Dad.”

  I kept my eyes closed, exhausted from the day before.

  “Dad…”

  It must be much earlier than I was used to waking up because my eyes didn’t want to cooperate. In a dreamlike state, I thought I was making the whole thing up, that I dreamed Derek was there with me.

  “Dad.”

  I finally sighed and cracked my eyes open, seeing my own eyes staring back at me. He was beside me, wearing his space pajamas. It took me a few seconds to understand he was real, to understand my son was really there with me, sleeping in my bed like he used to. “Hmm?”

  “What are we going to do today?”

  I loved the freedom of my bachelor life, sleeping alone, having no responsibilities, not having to worry about anyone but myself. But I never got as much joy out of life as I did when I was with my son, even if he woke me up at the crack of dawn, even if he wanted me to pay attention to him all the time. “Fishing.”

  “We’re going fishing?” he whispered. “Here? There’s just buildings everywhere…”

  “I have a cabin a few hours away.”

  “Yes.” He made a fist with one of his hands then pulled his elbow toward his stomach.

  I chuckled, missing his signature move. My arm wrapped around him, and I pulled him close, snuggling with him like a stuffed animal, placing kisses on his forehead, loving my son with everything I had.

  He didn’t fight my affection like he used to. He seemed to miss it as much as I did. “What’s it like?”

  “Lots of trees, right on the lake, a big cabin…”

  “Can we go now?”

  “Well, we’ve got to get ready first. Have breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry,” he said quickly.

  I chuckled. “Well, we need to eat before we go, so you better get hungry.” I kissed his forehead again before I got out of bed and stretched. My eyes glanced to the clock on the nightstand, seeing it was six in the morning—on a Saturday.

  Derek got out of bed and left my bedroom to explore the rest of the penthouse. “This place is so cool!”

  I opened my dresser and pulled out a shirt to pull over my head. Then I walked down the hallway to the dining room and living room.

  Derek grabbed the remote and figured out all the controls for the TV, pulling up the kids channel so he could watch his favorite cartoons.

  “What do you want for breakfast?” I stepped into the kitchen and looked in the fridge.

  “Eggos.”

  “I don’t have Eggos.” I opened the freezer—and there they were. “Cleo…” I grabbed the box and pulled them out. “Never mind.” I popped them in the toaster then made myself some scrambled eggs and grilled veggies.

  As I stood over the pan, I looked into the living room, seeing Derek sitting on the rug in front of the TV, watching it just the way he did at home. When the waffles were done, I put them on a plate with a squirt of syrup. “It’s ready.” I set it on the table.

  He moved to the dining room and climbed on one of the chairs so he could eat.

  I brought my plate and sat across from him.

  He ripped the waffle into pieces, eating with his hands, kicking his leg under the table, his eyes on the TV.

  I stared at him, unable to believe how normal this was, how much I’d missed doing this. I’d taken these moments for granted for the last five years.

  Derek turned back to me. “That Cleo lady is nice.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “I think she’s my friend.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, she is your friend.”

  “Is she your friend?”

  I nodded.

  “Or is she your girlfriend?” He chuckled like he was teasing me.

  I continued to smile. “No. Just my friend.”

  “She colors good.”

  “Yeah?”

  “On the plane, she colored a garden. But the flowers were all these different colors, every petal different. It was really cool.”

  “What did you color?”

  “A rocket.”

  “Show it to me later.”

  “Alright.” He kept eating, watching the TV.

  I was done, but I sat there so I could stare at him, the accomplishment I was most proud of.

  “I know you and Mom are divorced, but does that mean you’ll never come back?” Derek turned back to me.

  I sighed at the question, unsure how to answer it. “Maybe someday. It’s been really hard to live here without you. I miss you every day.”

  “Why haven’t you called?”

  Another tough question. “Your mother and I…just have a hard time getting along.”

  He dabbed his waffle into the syrup before he took a bite.

  “We’ll work on it.”

  When he was finished, his hands were all sticky, so he wiped them clean with the napkin.

  “What have you been up to, Derek?”

  “I started to build a rocket, but Mom got maaaaad.”

  I chuckled.

  “She told me not to, but I did it anyway. But then I got stuck on the propulsion part. Haven’t been able to figure it out.”

  If I were there, I could do it with him. But I wasn’t. “We’ll FaceTime when you go home, and I’ll help you with it.”

  “Okay.” His eyes lit up. “So, can we go now?”

  “We’ve got to shower and get dressed.”

  “But we’re just going to smell like worms anyway.”

  I chuckled. “True. But that’s what we do in the morning. So, let’s get to it.”

  The car pulled up to the cabin.

  Derek looked out the window and used the armrest to push himself up. “Wow…it’s awesome!”

  I got out of the car and grabbed the bags.

  Derek immediately ran around, touching the trunks of the trees and looking down into the grass as if he saw an anthill.

  The driver helped me carry everythi
ng inside. That was when I noticed a black truck sitting there that wasn’t mine.

  I used the keys to get inside and saw a note on the counter. It was from Cleo.

  * * *

  Deacon,

  I rented you a truck for the weekend, in case you want to go anywhere. I’ve gotten you everything you need, but if I’ve forgotten anything, you know where to find me.

  -Cleo-

  * * *

  I grabbed the keys and slipped them into my pocket before I went back outside. I tipped the driver then went after Derek. “Don’t go too far.”

  He was at the back side of the house, close to the water.

  I caught up with him, seeing him walk out on the pier to the small fishing boat docked there. “Are those are fishing rods?”

  Cleo had probably set that up. “Yep.”

  “Then let’s go!” He jumped up and down on the dock.

  I chuckled and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Don’t you think we should change first?”

  He looked down at his jeans and t-shirt. “Oh yeah…”

  We spent the day on the lake, our rods sitting in the water as we waited for a bite.

  Every time Derek caught a fish, he threw it back because he didn’t want to kill it.

  I liked that.

  I really didn’t want to clean the fish and cook it anyway.

  Derek looked over the edge into the water. “How deep do you think it is?”

  “We’re in the middle of the lake, so I’d say at least fifty feet.”

  “How many fish do you think there are?”

  “Thousands.”

  He sat up again, in his big green hat to keep the sun out of his face. “Are there bears here?”

  “Probably.”

  “Did you know bears can climb quicker than they run?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Did you know that pine trees are one of the oldest trees on the planet, so they have male and female reproductive parts and rely solely on the wind for pollination, developed at a time when there were no birds and insects to pollinate for them?”