I know I'm always late with these Christmas stories, but every year I just really feel the need to write cute crap about Rayna and Deacon and snow, and then inevitably am too full of Christmas food to manage to be productive in time to post before January.

So merry belated Christmas y'all, and to all a happy Deyna holidays.

(Also I'm toying with posting a second chapter as a flashback of the Christmas mentioned here as the year of the burgers - if anyone would want to read that let me know and I'll give it a go?)

The entire house was filled with the smell of burnt cookies. Rayna scraped the offending trays of blackened would-be Christmas trees into the trash can, her attempts at baking thwarted by her lifelong inability to remember she'd put anything in the oven. Same went for the stove, the toaster, the grill.

She chuckled to herself, Daphne and Maddie's laughter filling the kitchen as they chased each other around with a piping bag of green icing. She'd managed to rescue one batch and they'd splattered icing on them to cover up how close they'd come to the fate of the others, but it was lucky she'd bought so many pre-made cookies as back-up - no one could ever say she didn't know herself.

'Mom!' Daphne shrieked, her pigtails flying around her face, 'Maddie got icing on my new pajamas!'

Rayna stopped what she was doing and looked at her girls, both covered head to toe in sugary green blobs. She shook her head, trying to suppress a smile.

'Well y'all do look a sight. We might as well put sprinkles on the two of you and eat you.' She tossed the last of the charcoal cookies and deposited the tray on the counter, glancing down at her own attire: worn pajama bottoms, her old favourites, and a questionable Christmas sweater, both of which were dusted with floury prints from small hands.

'We'd all better go clean up, huh?'

The doorbell rang as Rayna was tying the end of the intricate braid in Maddie's freshly-washed hair. Her stomach jumped as she wondered which of their guests it would be - Teddy's mother, she guessed. Her father was ever-punctual for every occasion in his life other than Christmas dinner at Rayna's house, which he opted, without fail, to be late to in some misguided assertion of power. There was no way he'd be the first to arrive, and Tandy was currently on her third glass of breakfast champagne, according to her text half an hour ago, so it was unlikely she'd made it to Rayna's front door so quickly.

Rayna pursed her lips and adjusted her pantyhose, attempting to test how much breathing room she'd have in them for the mammoth Christmas dinner Teddy was preparing downstairs. She heard his voice in the hallway greeting their guest and patted Maddie's shoulder.

'We should go on down, sweetheart,' she told her, and Maddie jumped off the dressing table stool so her mother could take a look at her finished Christmas outfit. 'Perfect,' Rayna declared, smiling as she wriggled and tugged on the hem of her dress. Her eldest daughter didn't enjoy being trussed up in her Christmas best, not one for party dresses and bows. She was so like Deacon in that way, never more his daughter than when she longed to blend in.

Daphne, conversely, was born with a love of the spotlight. She twirled around Rayna's bedroom in the dress she'd picked during their trip to the mall earlier in the week, the sparkliest one in the store, and Rayna watched her spin and spin, singing to herself and showing off the moves she'd been learning in her ballet classes. For someone so small, Daphne was a presence.

/

She'd been right - Teddy's mother, Angela Conrad, was perched cross-legged on one of the couches in the kitchen when Rayna and the girls walked in, his stepfather Beau opposite her, sipping expensive Scotch from a crystal glass. They looked up when Daphne bounced over to them, Angela rising to hug her, albeit carefully. They were careful people, Teddy's family: carefully dressed, immaculately presented at all times, carefully spoken and well-mannered.

'Rayna,' Beau greeted her, air-kissing her on each cheek. 'A merry Christmas to you.'

'And to you, Beau,' she replied, giving him her best festive smile.

Maddie stayed close to her side as they exchanged pleasantries, Angela producing a large bag of gifts she'd paid someone else to wrap, most of which were for the girls, to their delight. Teddy joined them, handing Rayna a glass of chilled wine and putting his arm around her with a wink.

'You're probably gonna need that today,' he said, quietly enough that only she could hear him, and she snickered. Damn right.

Christmas was Teddy's favourite time of year, as much as Rayna knew he too felt the pressure of having their families under one roof. She looped her arm around his back and sipped her wine as she listened to the girls tell their grandparents about school, Daphne landing the lead in her class nativity play, Maddie's guitar lessons.

'Want some help with dinner?' Rayna asked Teddy, and he lifted an eyebrow in mirth.

'It's under control,' he told her, and she nudged him with her hip.

'I don't burn everything.'

The doorbell rang again and she handed her glass to him and went to open it, finding Tandy and her husband standing on the steps loaded with presents.

'Well now it's a merry Christmas,' Rayna said, embracing her sister and hustling her into the warmth. 'Jeremy, it's nice to see you.'

'That dress,' Tandy clucked, motioning to the glitzy number that was making Rayna itch like crazy. 'You're looking hot, sis. You're so tiny.'

'Oh stop,' Rayna chided, accepting the three bottles of red Tandy handed her in one arm and beckoning them to give her their coats with the other. 'I've been eatin' like a horse all winter. I'm about to burst out of this thing.'

Their aunt Margaret arrived next, their father's sister, a formidable woman even Daphne was terrified of, and eventually Lamar, grumbling about the snow just starting to fall. Despite his permanent bad mood when it came to Rayna, he showered his grandchildren with affection and Christmas cheer, and ridiculously lavish gifts that Rayna tried not to side-eye him for.

It took precisely 20 minutes for the men, minus Teddy, who had rolled up his sleeves and popped open his top shirt button and was slicing sweet potatoes, to break away to talk business, their pristinely tailored suits more appropriate for a boardroom than Christmas. Rayna resisted the urge to roll her eyes, eventually failing but hiding it behind a generous glass of wine at least. She stirred a giant jug of eggnog at the kitchen counter while she watched them, Lamar holding court, as always, Tandy's husband regaling him with the details of some deal they were in the middle of making.

Jeremy Hampton had gone to work for Lamar right after he and Tandy had gotten together, his Ivy League education and property empire family ticking Lamar's requisite son-in-law boxes. It was an ideal match in his eyes, a Hampton and a Wyatt, a powerhouse of a marriage. Funny how he'd never thought a guitar player from a one-stoplight town could make a good husband for his other daughter.

'Got enough brandy in there?' Tandy asked, and Rayna startled, realising she'd emptied in the best part of a bottle.

'Oh,' she said, looking away from the impromptu business meeting and shaking off thoughts of Deacon. 'Well hell, maybe it'll get everyone in the Christmas spirit.'

Tandy made sure no one was looking and dipped a manicured fingertip into the mixture, giving a little shiver when she tasted it. 'It's lethal. I completely approve.'

'Want a glass?' Rayna asked, not waiting for her nod. She sipped a little she poured for herself and winced, but the burn felt satisfying as it licked her throat and she relaxed a little.

Aunt Margaret had found a copy of The Tennessean from the day before and sat with her gold-rimmed round spectacles on and her mouth set in disapproval, flat-out ignoring the girls' attempts to get her to play with them. Teddy's mother was less obtuse and humoured their games, but she stayed in her spot on a hard-backed chair with her dainty glass of sherry in one hand all the same, poised stiffly in her two-piece and neat heels.

Daphne had recently turned six and was very into dolls, creating elaborate scenarios for them that she loved to tell everyone in the vicinity about. Maddie, too old for dolls even if she had ever been interested in them - which she hadn't, always favouring musical instruments, to no one's surprise - indulged her little sister at the best of times, but it warmed Rayna's heart to see her trying her best to make up for the stuffy company. She sat on the floor beside Daphne with a princess in one hand and a camouflage Barbie in the other, giving them silly little voices and trotting them around as her sister laughed.

Rayna knew most of the people in the room would prefer her children to sit prettily in their dresses and speak only when spoken to - there was no way she'd entertain the notion, of course. She snickered to herself as Daphne fed hot chocolate to a doll in a ballgown Lamar had given her not half an hour earlier, spilling brown liquid down its chin. There certainly were times, many of them, when it was a good thing that Lamar paid no attention unto whatever didn't serve him.

'One year I'm just gonna run away with them,' she mumbled to Tandy. 'Somewhere the bah humbugs can't find us.'

'Well as long as you take me with you - I'll bring the truffles we pretend we're not allowed to eat the other 364 days of the year.'

Rayna smiled, but she couldn't dislodge the feeling in her stomach. It wasn't new, nor was it reserved for Christmas, but it was stronger this time of year and she found it harder to push it down. She was supposed to be somewhere else, in another life she knew in her bones, one she'd had to leave behind. She wished for Deacon most of all as snow fell and she lived her lie.

Coleman and Audrey arrived after visiting his grandmother in a nursing home across town, and Rayna all but launched herself at them, their genuine, happy faces so welcome. The smell of roasting beef was thick and delicious in the air as she chivvied them down the corridor from the front door, dinner almost ready to be served, and they used the time to help Daphne arrange her dolls into an expectant tea party.

Teddy outdid himself, serving up a feast without so much as breaking a sweat, expertly deflecting Lamar's questioning as to why they didn't hire some staff to do this sort of thing for them. He liked Teddy, very much so, but Teddy was a kind man, more down to earth than Jeremy and far less fixated on status, which unsurprisingly gave Lamar just enough room to divert some insults Rayna's way, one of his favourite pastimes.

They ate until they couldn't manage another mouthful, and Rayna let out a groan, her dress stretching to its limit around her full belly, much to the amusement of her daughters who tried to feed her one last sprout, their Christmas dinner nemesis food.

'I'm in a food coma,' she protested, scooping them up in her arms and kissing their warm foreheads.

'Sprouts are so gross,' Maddie said, 'even when Dad cooks them.' She looked over at Teddy. 'Sorry Dad.'

'They're gross except when your father cooks them,' Rayna amended, 'and they're good for you, all that green. Y'all are gonna be eatin' them for days whether you like 'em or not - there's an army's worth of leftovers in that kitchen.'

She was glad their guests moved into the more formal lounge room after dinner, the sugar cookies and indulgent desserts she'd picked up from a delicious little bakery in Green Hills laid out on a table for them to nibble at. The kitchen was comparatively peaceful as she cleared up at her insistence, her end of the bargain, and she'd felt the daggers her father had aimed at her when she'd let Coleman join her - a guest clearing up? How pedestrian.

'Your husband is quite the cook, Rayna,' Coleman marvelled as he loaded plates into the dishwasher. 'Good thing it wasn't down to you.'

He chuckled but she swiped at him with a dishcloth anyway. 'If it'd been down to me, we'd have all been eatin' out.'

'Do you remember that year you put a ham in and forgot to turn the oven on, and we all sat in the living room for hours before any of us realised?'

The memory flooded back to Rayna in full technicolour and she covered her cheeks. 'How could I ever forget that? And even then we only realised because one of y'all got worried it was burnin'.' She laughed loudly. 'Not even close!'

Coleman patted his stomach. 'I can still see poor Deacon runnin' to the store in all that snow to see if he could get one of those pre-cooked turkeys, but the only place open was Wendy's.'

'Burgers,' Rayna rasped, 'on Christmas Day. What a dinner that was!'

'Cold burgers on Christmas Day.'

Rayna shook her head. 'I remember us all bein' so hungry by that point that those burgers were the best things I'd ever tasted, cold or not. And he got the kind with bacon and cheese on top - what more could you ask for?'

'Sure beats your cookin'.'

'Well hey now, it's not like it was just me in charge of that dinner.'

'Well I'll give you that,' Coleman conceded, 'you and Deacon always were as bad as each other in the kitchen.' Rayna nodded, amused that neither of them had gotten a damn bit better over the years. 'Lucky for both of you that you have talents in other areas.'

'Well thank God, or we wouldn't have gotten very far in life.'

As their laughter slowed, they fell into the quiet of the memory; it was as vivid in Rayna's mind as if it was yesterday. She looked around at her big fancy kitchen, at the trays of elaborate food, the ten foot tree in the corner, one of three in the house. They'd gotten the last one in the lot the year of the oven disaster, a spindly thing that everyone else had passed by, and they'd decorated it with a haphazard collection of ornaments and some string lights they'd found in a gas station. They'd been away on tour until Christmas Eve, their gift buying consisting of random things they'd stumbled upon while they were on the road. She remembered their laughter as they'd opened them all the next morning, the combined collection of tacky souvenirs they'd bought each other from the cities they'd stopped at. They'd made love on a crumpled pile of wrapping paper, clearing it up right before their guests had arrived, Audrey and Cole, Vince, their bandmates.

'That was quite a Christmas,' Coleman said, wistful against his better judgement.

Rayna traced a shape in a smudge of flour on the kitchen counter that she'd missed with the dishcloth. 'It sure was.' She cleared her throat. 'Do you think… do you think he's okay today, Cole?'

Coleman looked at her for a moment, but she didn't meet his eyes. 'I think he's Deacon. He'll be scowlin' his way through today just like he does most other days, but he'll be okay.'

'I hate to think of him alone at Christmas,' Rayna said, her voice cracking, as much as she tried to hide it.

'You gonna invite him round here to eat mashed potatoes with your husband and Lamar?' He watched her fold her arms over her chest and look away, point taken. 'He has people he could spend it with, Rayna. He chooses not to. We both know why that is, but there's nothin' you can do about it.'

'I know,' Rayna said, fully aware that Deacon didn't want to partake in the cheer of Christmas because it meant nothing to him without her, only her, and the familiar ache of guilt and longing jumped around her veins in their unwelcome dance. 'I just wish…' She sighed, the kind that hurt, and dropped her shoulders. 'I just wish things worked out the way they were supposed to in life. They way they should.'

Coleman found her hand and squeezed it. 'There is no should, Rayna. There's only what is. And what is, for you, is a husband who loves you and two damn great kids.' She gave him a smile, grateful through her sadness. 'And an asshole father who's probably turnin' his nose up at that expensive port Teddy was about to pour him.'

Rayna laughed. 'That is a sure thing,' she said, and outwardly she shook off her reminiscence and widened her smile, ever the master of the-show-must-go-on. She knew Coleman saw straight through it. 'Why don't you go on back in and I'll finish up here?'

He did, and Rayna watched him leave the room, glad he was an enduring part of her Christmases. She dipped her fingertip in a puddle of gravy on the edge of a plate that she was fairly sure had been hers, and sighed, alone for the first time all day.

Her cellphone was full of messages from people wishing her happy holidays and she scrolled quickly through them, making a mental note to reply later. She stared at Deacon's number on the screen for a full minute when she reached it. The message she wrote was short, but it said what she wanted it to.

Thinking of our Christmas burgers and how they made us smile. You're always with me. Merry Christmas, Deacon.

The ping of a reply was instant.

Smiling too now that I'm seeing your name. Merry Christmas, Ray.

She let his words punch her in the stomach, the sweet simplicity of them, her breath catching. She wished fiercely, the way she only let herself do when no one else was around and she could momentarily withstand what it did to her heart, that she was there with him. That she was sat on his couch in pajamas and a pair of his socks, some old Christmas movie on TV that neither of them would pay attention to, lights twinkling on the wobbly tree while they huddled under a blanket and picked at leftovers. If only she could will a wish into being. It certainly was strong enough; she closed her eyes for a moment as though maybe it was possible.

She locked her phone and left it beside the coffee machine and gathered herself, smoothing her hair and looping the jokey Christmas apron she'd bought for Teddy over the oven door handle. The lounge was filled with stiff conversation when she walked in, more business chat, Maddie and Daphne sitting quietly in the corner. Their legs weren't long enough to reach the floor and their feet dangled off the edge of their seats; she smiled, longing to scoop them up and add them to her wish. There would be no talk of stock markets and contracts in the Christmas in her mind.

'Now what is this?' she said, clapping her hands together. 'No one's touched these cookies yet? Y'all, they're delicious. I should know, I stole three while I was puttin' them out.' She lifted the plate and held it out to the girls, who happily jumped in.

'Mom,' Maddie said, tugging on her sleeve. 'Could I maybe play the new song I learned this week? The Christmas one? Me and Daphne could sing it for everyone.'

'Oh!' Rayna exclaimed. 'Of course sweetheart - I think everyone would love that.'

She watched Maddie scurry off to get her guitar, one she'd bought for her the Christmas before. It was small enough for her to hold, her initials painted in the bottom corner in beautiful gold lettering, and she hadn't put it down a day since. It filled Rayna with pride to watch her climb back up on the couch next to her and shyly tell the room she was still learning but she thought she could remember the chords.

She could remember them, alright. Rayna listened to every perfect note, Maddie and Daphne's voices blending into the most beautiful harmony, amazed that they were hers, that somehow she'd made these talented little creatures. She'd heard Maddie practice Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas all week, but the finished version left her with a lump in her throat the size of China.

To her joy, everyone else listened keenly too, applauding with enthusiasm when the girls were done, and they grinned, Maddie clutching her guitar and looking up at Rayna. Daphne gave a little bow of her head and giggled, grabbing Maddie's hand and picking up the half-eaten cookie from her knee, stuffing the rest of it in in one go.

'Not everyone gets their own personal Conrad sisters' performance on Christmas Day,' Teddy said proudly, walking over and kissing the two of them on the tops of their heads. 'Unbelievable.'

'Your playing has really come on, Maddie,' Audrey told her, having always been in awe of her ability to play far beyond her years. 'Are you still taking lessons?'

'I am,' Maddie replied. 'Twice a week now. I wanted to progress faster,' she said, sounding like such a tiny adult that Rayna had to dip her head to hide a smile.

'I hope you're paying as much attention to your schoolwork as you are to this,' Lamar chided, gesturing vaguely to her guitar, though he may as well have pointed at it with a neon finger. 'You can already play very well for a hobby.'

'Of course, Grandpa,' Maddie said, but Rayna felt her shift imperceptibly closer to her.

Lamar fixed Rayna with a glare. 'I'm glad to hear it. It doesn't do well to get off track with what really matters. Your mother didn't even go to college, you know.'

'Well Daddy,' Rayna said sweetly, trying her best not to bristle, 'that's because I was touring the country with my first album by the time I was old enough for college.' She looked down at Maddie, whose face was turned up towards her, her eyes wide and dreamy. 'Your schoolwork is important, and your music is important too, baby. I know you're doing really well at both. Daphne too.'

She didn't miss the smug look on Lamar's face, happy he'd managed to make her out as a bad example to her children, in his eyes at least. It's Christmas, Rayna chanted to herself, practised in not taking the bait he so enjoyed dangling in front of her whenever he could.

Tandy plopped herself down on the other side of Daphne and patted her small knee. 'I think it might be time for some board games,' she said, looking at Rayna over the girls' heads. 'Anyone for Yahtzee?'

#

The house had been peaceful for a couple of hours, to Rayna's gratitude. Their guests had started to say their goodbyes after several intense rounds of dice throwing and another few helpings of cookies, and Teddy had cleared up the lounge and settled on the couch in the kitchen. Rayna, thrilled to swap her restrictive dress for leggings and a cashmere sweater, joined him, flicking on the TV and finding that White Christmas had just started.

It took Teddy all of ten minutes to start snoring lightly, and she watched him for a while, his mouth open, not a trace of tension or flicker of a bad dream creasing his smooth face. She got up, careful not to disturb him, and retrieved her phone from the counter, and before she started sending off replies to well-wishers she opened Deacon's message again.

Smiling too now.

It took her several minutes before she could sit down next to Teddy again.

/

'Did I miss the movie?' Teddy asked, waking as the credits were rolling.

'You sure did, babe,' Rayna told him, reaching up to pluck a stray feather from one of the cushions that had found its way into his hair. 'Why don't you go on up to bed? It's been a long day.'

'Mmm,' he agreed, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. 'It has. A successful one though, don't you think?'

She smiled at him. 'No one got into an argument and dinner went down a storm, I'd call that a success in my book. Hey, Daddy almost managed to keep his mouth shut for a whole day - that's a real success.'

'It certainly is,' Teddy said, leaning over to kiss her temple. He stood and rolled his neck to one side to stretch it out. 'Are you coming up?'

'I'll join you in a little while, there are just a couple of things I want to do first.'

'The work of a superstar never stops,' he said with a wink, 'Christmas or not.'

He wasn't angry, quite the opposite, and Rayna felt guilty, though she told herself there was no reason to. She could still just stay right there on the couch, no harm done. 'Well those sprouts just gave me such inspiration for a song,' she said, relieved it sounded convincing, and Teddy laughed.

'Happy writing,' he bade her, so earnestly that she almost broke, and she jumped to her feet as he started to walk away.

She put a hand on his chest to stop him, and looked at him for a long moment. 'Merry Christmas, Teddy,' she whispered. He cupped her cheek; his palm was warm and dry, comforting.

'Merry Christmas, Rayna.'

She reached up and kissed him, and he pecked her lips in return, patting her arm. She stayed rooted to the spot as he made his way towards the stairs, and was still staring after him as he rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight, balling and releasing her hands, telling herself to sit back down. Write a song, pour some wine, eat some leftovers - anything.

She was in her coat and boots as soon as she heard Teddy's footsteps quiet. Their bedroom was directly above the kitchen and the floorboards creaked faintly when someone walked over them; she listened with the ear of a thief stealing through a half-open window under the cover of shadows. She knew he'd fall asleep straight away, he always did - she'd stopped counting the nights she'd lain awake next to him listening to his even breathing, her own rest a world away. The amount of times she'd bartered and begged with whatever higher being there may be to grant her sleep with even half the peace, to close her eyes and be able to shut everything off. It never worked.

The house was entirely still when she pulled the door in the kitchen closed gingerly and locked it, walking on light feet towards her car. It was parked - thankfully - around the other side of the house, but she left the headlights off anyway until she got out of the drive and onto the narrow road that would take her to the highway. The steering wheel was cold and she gripped it too tightly, her hands losing feeling even with the heat cranked up to full blast; an ice storm was on its way according to the weather report she'd caught on the radio that morning.

East Nashville was alive with lights, houses decked with strings of bulbs and cool blue icicles, giant reindeer and inflatable Santas. The residents had really outdone themselves, she thought as she wound through the familiar streets, remembering with a pang the walks she and Deacon would take every year to marvel at the front lawns turned into grottos, the houses so illuminated they surely could be seen from space. She was glad to see the neighbourly competitive spirit was alive and well.

It had been a long time since she'd been anywhere near this part of town, and she'd missed it, she realised, the feeling of arriving home potent as she turned onto her old street. Nerves gripped her and she half-wished there were no spaces for her to park in, as though it would have been enough of a reason to turn back.

There was a space right outside his house. Of course there was. She laughed as she pulled into it, spying his truck parked opposite. It took her a moment to gather herself and she peered out at the house, wondering whether he would somehow sense her proximity and appear in the window. He didn't, to her relief and disappointment, but there was a dim light on that confirmed he was home.

She'd made a quick pitstop on the way and grabbed the brown paper bag off the passenger seat, tucking it under her arm and balancing a wrapped plate of cookies in her hand. She took one last deep breath and got out of the car before she could talk herself out of it.

Deacon didn't answer her first knock, and she pictured him staring at the door, frowning and wondering who on earth would disturb him at 11.30pm on Christmas Day. She lifted her hand to knock again but the door swung open as her knuckles made contact with it, first a crack, and then all the way.

'Rayna?' he said in disbelief, staring at her without moving aside.

'Hey,' she said with an awkward jazz-hands kind of shrug, suddenly feeling stupid for thinking he would want to see her. She almost bolted, her feet shuffling backwards in uncertainty.

'What are you doin' here?' he asked.

She couldn't think of a single word to say to explain turning up on his doorstep so she held up the bag instead. 'I thought you might be in the mood for a midnight snack. Can I come in? It's kinda freezin' out here.'

His whole face softened and cracked into a smile. 'Of course!' he said, recovering from his shock and standing back quickly, ushering her into the house they'd shared until everything had gone oh so wrong. He stood next to the closed door shaking his head at her, his deep rumble of laughter doing more to warm her stiff body than the fire crackling in the hearth. 'Is that Wendy's?'

Rayna nodded, her smile wry.

'Then you better get over here and open that bag,' he said, waving her towards the fire.

She handed it to him and set the plate down on the coffee table, wriggling out of her coat and letting him take it from her.

'I was just thinkin' about openin' a can of spaghetti hoops. You're just in time.'

She lifted an eyebrow at him. 'How did I know that would be the extent of your Christmas cookin', Deacon?'

She kicked off her boots and lifted her feet towards the flames, her frozen toes thawing back to life. The heat had steamed up the windows, the smell in the room woody and sweet; this house had always smelled that way, guitars and coffee and Deacon, a combination she would know with her eyes closed.

'You're not far wrong,' he admitted, hanging her coat on the rack by the door and plopping down on the couch. She settled next to him as he opened the Wendy's haul and they peered in together at the assortment of paper-wrapped burgers and cartons of fries. She'd stocked up on ketchup and BBQ sauce, naturally, and he grinned at her, reaching in to lift everything out. Despite her over-indulgence all day long, her stomach gave a rumble in response to the ever-enticing smell of grease and bacon.

They didn't ask about the other's day, a silent agreement that they didn't need to acknowledge anything that had come before the sharing of this food and this stolen time. Deacon didn't question how she'd managed to get away, and she didn't offer any explanation - it wasn't needed. The leather of the couch was soft under her and his guitar was propped against the chair opposite and all felt right.

'You got a tree,' she said between mouthfuls, looking over at the corner of the room. It was small and sparsely decorated but it was a tree, and she was surprised. She knew it had been a long time since he'd bothered - the last Christmas they'd spent together, in fact. Maybe he'd given into a little Christmas spirit after all.

'Yeah,' he said, wiping a dollop of ketchup from the corner of his mouth and licking it off his finger, 'you know, felt like the place needed a little life. It's not much.' He shrugged in that self-deprecating way that was so him, and she bumped his shoulder with hers.

'I think it's perfect.'

Deacon studied her face for a moment, a small, pleased smile on his lips, and she felt the flurry in her stomach that was specific only to him. She told herself, an age-old line, that it was just her body's response to him, that he was sat too close to her and he looked so good in his plaid shirt with his clear eyes and the perfect amount of scruff. Her body didn't know she was married to someone else, and it didn't know she wasn't allowed to flush with heat over Deacon anymore, or have her thigh resting against his. No one else looked at her the way he did though, past her eyes and inside her, as though he could see right into her mind. She realised she'd stopped chewing her food and looked away, swallowing it too harshly and hoping that dropping her gaze would mean he couldn't see the rest of the thoughts she definitely should not be having.

Ten minutes alone with Deacon Claybourne and she could barely control herself. She coughed as the bite of burger lodged itself in her throat and he jumped up, reappearing with a glass of water for her. She gulped it gratefully and set the rest of the burger down, leaning back into the cushions.

'Damn bacon,' she croaked, patting her chest, 'it went the wrong way.'

He laughed. 'Want some fries to wash it down with?'

She watched him scarf the rest of his burger and another after it as he told her about a feud that had been happening further down the street, a new neighbour wreaking havoc with the family who were famed every year for their Christmas decorations.

'They had a full-on nativity scene on their lawn, a musical baby Jesus, three wise men on ice skates whizzin' around him, the whole deal,' he told her, enjoying the story.

'How did I miss that one when I was drivin' over here? We're gonna have to go back out there and take a look.'

Deacon wiped his mouth on a napkin and popped three fries in at once. 'That's just the thing - it ain't there anymore. Baby Jesus got abducted last week, in the middle of the night.' He laughed heartily at the absurdity of it. 'They were so pissed they tore the whole thing down, and the neighbour swears he didn't do it but he's been standin' out on his lawn every day lookin' triumphant as hell.'

Rayna lost herself in laughter along with him, happy to see him so lighthearted. She picked up some fries and dipped them in the pot of ketchup he was balancing on his knee.

'I wonder which dumpster baby Jesus is spendin' Christmas in,' she mused, nibbling on them.

'He's probably pride of place in that guy's house, a damn trophy. And I ain't kiddin' - the family have offered a reward for its return.'

'A reward? For a doll?'

'Not just any doll, Ray,' Deacon countered, mock-serious, 'the symbol of Christmas.'

'Hell, Daphne has a world of dolls, shall I go pick one up and we can take it over there? They can wake up to Jesus in a pink tutu, I'm sure they'd love that.'

'Does she have one of the kind that pees itself?'

She snorted, and took another swig of water. 'You gonna take part next year? Truss up your house and compete with 'em?'

'Oh I'm thinkin' about it.' He picked up her abandoned burger and bit into it. 'Hey, you any idea where I can get some real reindeer?'

/

Somehow it was 2am, and the fire was burning low, spitting the hardiest of of its embers out across the stone hearth. Deacon played soft notes of an old Christmas country song Rayna half-recognised, and she murmured along, eyes closed, head sunk into the worn leather.

Greasy wrappers were strewn across the table among empty mugs of hot chocolate and crumbs from the leftover cookies she'd decorated with the girls - his face had lit with delight when she'd told him they'd made them. The little white lights on the Christmas tree blinked gently, hypnotising her as she half-watched them. She didn't remember the last time she'd felt so relaxed, and she let an unguarded sigh slip from her lips as tendrils of sleep tried to pull her under.

'I should go,' she said with a little groan of protest. She didn't move though, and Deacon kept playing.

'It's real cold out,' he said, voice soft, 'there's frost on the windows now.'

She turned to look - he was right: silver webs crept from the corners of the window panes, making their way toward the centre of the glass. 'Oh,' she cooed at the beauty of them, but curled a little tighter at the thought of stepping out of their warm haven.

'Hey, I almost forgot,' she said, getting to her feet. She rummaged in her coat pocket, hopping from one foot to the other at the chill that found its way underneath the frame. The cushions were still warm from her body heat when she jogged back to them, and she burrowed in and held out two wrapped packages, one neatly, one less so.

'What are these?' Deacon asked, taking them from her in surprise.

'Open them. That one's from me, and the girls got you this one.' She gestured to the haphazardly folded sparkly paper, the message they'd written filling every bit of space on the tag they'd taped to it. Merry Christmas Uncle DEACON, it read, love from Santa (but really from Maddie + from Daphne AGE SIX}

Deacon ripped off the paper, encountering an overload of tape, much to his amusement. Rayna watched him, her heart expanding at his obvious happiness.

'Oh! he exclaimed when he eventually got into it, holding up a small, black porcelain ornament in the shape of a treble clef.

'It's for the tree I didn't think you had,' she told him. 'They picked it out themselves. I told them you didn't usually decorate but they were adamant that they wanted it for you anyway.' She paused, thinking of their excitement as they raced to the checkout in the store to pay for it. 'They must have known.'

'It's beautiful,' Deacon said, unable to wipe the smile off his face. 'I can't believe they thought of me.'

Rayna touched his knee gently. 'Of course they did. And believe me, they would have been over here playin' you every single Christmas song they've learned if I'd given them half the chance. They love you a lot, Deacon.'

He caught her hand as she pulled back and clasped it, and for a brief moment - though it felt as though it was stretched, elongated in its intimacy - their hands rested together on the sliver of leather between them.

'I love them too, Ray. I'll get a tree every year from now on just so I can hang this on it.'

He meant it, she knew, the thought the girls had put into their gift for him having more impact on him than they could possibly know. He let go of her hand and crossed to the tree, looping the ornament's string around a sturdy branch near the top and stepping back to survey it. Rayna allowed herself a fraction of time, a few illicit seconds, to picture them here, the four of them a family, sharing Christmas together. No frost waiting for her outside, no bed in a house all the way across town, no need to leave him when it was the very last thing she wanted to do. Her and Deacon, together, curling up in his arms, celebrating snow and Santa and stolen baby Jesus dolls. The way it was supposed to be.

If he caught the look on her face, any betrayal from her eyes, wretched things, so quick to give away her secrets to him, he didn't say a word.

'The girls loved the gifts you got for them too,' she told him when she trusted herself to speak, 'thank you.'

'I'm glad,' he replied. She was twisted towards him, and she wondered if she shouldn't be, if she should politely edge away. 'It was easy findin' somethin' for Maddie, she loves her music so much, but Daphne… Imagine me in a toy store tryin' to pick out somethin' a little girl would like - I didn't manage to hide how out of my depth I was, put it that way.'

Rayna laughed, her fondness for him threatening to overwhelm her. She didn't edge away - she didn't even stay where she was. Her body moved closer to him, the image of him uncomfortable and so well-meaning in a sea of pre-Christmas parents and over-hyped children one she wanted to savour.

'This one's from you?' he asked, touching the other package tentatively, and she nodded.

'It's just a little something,' she said, suddenly shy.

He unwrapped it slowly, stretching the moment out, and when the cassette tape fell out into his hands he turned it over, looking for an explanation of its contents.

'It's a recording of our first tour,' she said, turning it onto its side and showing him the letters in her writing: Home, New Orleans show.

It had been the name of one of her early albums and their first headline tour, so long ago and yet forever inked into her memory with a freshness she knew it would never lose. That night had been the first time he'd asked her to marry him, in the bed on their tour bus as they'd driven to the next town, not a stitch of clothing between them and a sweet, heady air streaming through the open bus windows and cooling their hot skin.

Two kids, they'd been, and he'd held her hand to his chest as the words had left his mouth, knowing she couldn't possibly say yes, not intending for her to. It had been a promise more than a question, one she'd answered with a kiss that had left him reaching for her all over again, a promise that one day he would ask her for real. And he had - in various states over the years, some that he remembered, some that he didn't, to Rayna's pain. That night remained untainted though, feathered with innocence; it would always be the first, the one that sealed a love that was for always.

'Where did you get this, Ray?' he breathed, stunned.

She traced its spine. 'Let's just say, I dug for it.'

'Wow. This is… I can't believe you found this.' He looked up at her and she saw him remember. Marry me, baby. Marry me right here on this damn bus. 'Wow, Ray.'

'It's quite a listen,' she said, her throat thick. 'We were babies.'

'We really were. What was this, '92? '93?'

'About then, yeah. Practically prehistoric.'

He looked at it for a long time, the piece of their history, holding it carefully in his hands as though protecting the memories it held. 'Thank you,' he whispered, and when he looked up at her she was sure his eyes were wet.

'You're welcome, Deacon.'

'I got you somethin' too,' he said, getting up and pulling open a desk drawer. 'I wasn't sure whether to give it to you, I thought... ' He held out a large, square package wrapped in brown paper, his familiar scrawl in the top left hand corner.

For you.

'Is it a record?' she asked, and he said nothing, just sat down next to her and waited.

She peeled off the tape, pulling back the paper. She was right - it was an old vinyl, and her heart jumped when she turned it over and saw her mother's face, a picture she didn't know on a faded cover.

'It's an original, an album she never released. I found it at that old record store on Gallatin, no idea how it's managed to make its way there. I'd never seen it before. I thought you'd want to have it.'

Rayna didn't know what would come out if she opened her mouth, so she didn't. She held the record tightly to her chest and threw an arm around Deacon, burying her face in his neck. He brought his arms around her and rubbed her back, soothing her, setting her alight, and she stayed there until she felt she could bear to let go of him.

'I've never seen this before,' she managed to say, 'I didn't even know it existed. This is… only you could find this, Deacon. Only you could ever give this to me.'

He bit the insides of his cheeks and took her face in his hands, the kiss he pressed to her forehead one she knew would have to last her until she could allow herself this again, this break from her restraint that she'd had to so carefully build.

And somehow they didn't matter so much, all the Christmases they'd missed. They'd written a new one, together, by a spindly tree with one ornament, ketchup packets and burnt cookie remnants all around them. Everything outside the frosted windows would be waiting for them the next day, and she would have to leave him and drive on the deserted roads away from him long before she could ever want to, but they would always have this, and it meant anything was possible.

As she looked up at the house from the driver's seat of her car an hour later as snow started to pepper the ground in earnest, her mother's undiscovered record on the seat next to her, Deacon stood in his doorway. She knew as she waved to him and watched him nod his goodbye that she would be back again next year, and the years after that, Christmas Day burgers in a brown paper bag under her arm.