So we've all seen that glorious looking hug in the promo for this week's episode, right? How'd they get there?
This story also references a sneak peak of them at the hospital with Scarlett. Thanks to Shiny Jewel for the encouragement and for being willing to forgo a chapter of baby bliss for this piece that was nagging at me non-stop since I watched the sneak peak today. ;)
Enjoy!
Rayna pulled her Escalade behind Deacon's truck, throwing it into park and sighing sadly.
The drive back had been painfully silent. She didn't expect it would be any other way, as they'd had few words to say to each other since they'd both hurled poorly constructed accusations at the other earlier that afternoon.
Their words had not been rocks, but pitiful excuses of melted, fluffy snowballs that fell apart in their hands as they tried to throw them. She knew deep down that he didn't enable Scarlett's behavior, just as he knew Scarlett was a grown woman that Rayna couldn't and shouldn't have to reign in like a young filly.
They'd both been equally confident in the claims, however, until Scarlett had tried to escape the hospital and discoveries had been made that changed the entire course of the conversation.
She was careful to not press him, though there was a slight unspoken fear of the consequences of him bottling it up inside.
She stared at her hands on the wheel, making note that they'd been sitting in front of his house for about 60 seconds and he'd made no attempt to move.
"Deacon?"
They'd both been so silent for so long that her voice cracked when it came out.
He looked over at her and sighed.
"I'm sorry, Ray."
She nodded softly.
"Me too."
He nodded, a sad smirk playing on his face for the intricate mess his life and the lives of those he loved had been reduced to in the last couple of days. When it rained it seemingly poured for everyone under Deacon Claybourne's umbrella.
"Would you mind coming inside for a minute? I'd like to talk about something, if I could."
She looked away from him. His request was reasonable enough, as there was certainly plenty the two could still hash out, but to be honest with herself was not a plan on her books that evening.
"I don't know, Deacon. I mean, I have the girls and I know they're still shaken up over this deal with the press and I know Maddie is worried about Scarlett. Plus the babysitter is going to start charging me overtime. I really should get home."
He nodded; his lips pursed.
He quickly opened the door and stepped out, muttering a quick "thanks for the ride" before slamming the door shut.
She instantaneously felt pangs of regret stabbing her in every major organ. She knew that shutting down and ignoring things was a fault she carried to the most nonsensical extent, but she'd sworn to do better after her father died.
Deacon had been her lover, her partner, and her friend for nearly three decades. It was tumultuous a great deal of the time, sure. There was also a lot of pain and resentment and deep tissue scars that would never heal, but they were working on it. Even if it was only for the sake of their daughter, they'd been trying little by little to heal their bond.
She quickly unbuckled herself and turned the ignition off, hastily scrambling out of the car and following him up the sidewalk.
She was done running.
Rayna wasn't sure what she expected to find when she let herself in, but it wasn't what she did find—pitch darkness, with Deacon's jacket haphazardly thrown onto the couch; Deacon himself standing in the middle of the room with his back to her, seemingly staring at the wall.
She stood for a moment; unsure if he was ever going to acknowledge her presence.
Clearing her throat awkwardly, she'd expected him to turn around and face her. He didn't.
Instead, he lifted a hand to his face while his shoulders silently shook.
Was he…?
She stepped forward slowly.
"Deacon?" She spoke softly. "What's the matter?"
She continued to step closer to him as he wiped his face, trying to weep as silently as possible. She was mere inches from him, but made no attempt to touch him. The stress of everything, the sight of him crying, the darkness… this entire situation was not lost on her. She'd been rocked in this boat before and almost every time the boat had flipped.
"I'm scared, Ray."
"What—"
"I'm scared shitless."
She looked down at her feet.
"Of what, Deacon?"
He turned around, almost shocking her with the sight of his face. His eyes were bloodshot and red and his cheeks were tearstained; his face was ashen.
"Everything. All of it."
Rayna sighed, trying to be patient with his cryptic message that apparently she was supposed to figure out on her own.
"I don't under—"
"I'm scared for Maddie. What if she ends up like…?"
"Like what?"
Deacon threw himself down on the couch and brought his hand back to his face.
"Like a drunk, or batshit crazy, or abusive, or so fucking fragile you can't touch her? What if she just ends up like a Claybourne, Ray?"
She sighed and gingerly sat down beside him, still taking great care to not touch him.
"Deacon, she won't."
He stared at her bitterly.
"You sure about that?" Rayna nodded. "'Cause I don't know if you noticed today or not but there's apparently some pretty rotten genes running through her. I don't know what you were thinking."
"What I was thinking when?"
"Lettin' yourself get pregnant by someone of the likes of me."
Rayna rolled her eyes and buried her face in her hands.
"Seriously, Deacon? Don't do this." She looked up to stare at him; a subtle cocktail of fury, concern, and sadness adorning her careworn face. "I didn't 'let' myself do anything, for starters. And what of it, anyway? You and I always talked about having a family. I saw where you came from, Deacon. I was there when your father died and you refused to go to the funeral. I was there when they carted your sister off to the psych ward and we had to watch Scarlett until your mama felt good enough to take her. I was there, I saw it, and I know it all, but it never once influenced my decision or impacted my desire to have a family with you. I'm not scared of this one bit."
He smirked bitterly.
"Funny. Not telling a man he's the father of your child might be a good indication you're afraid, Ray."
Rayna stood to her feet, moving in front of him.
"Look at me." He reluctantly raised his eyes. Guilt was glistening through them like sunrise over the ocean. "We talked about that. I don't care to go into it with you again, but you're here now. You're in her life now and you're her father now. You got better and you worked hard to do that. You aren't your father, Deacon. You're a good man. I know you loved me. You love your daughter. She is half you, but she's the best half of you. That's how I know she'll be okay. All that stuff we were around today… that's not her life and it never will be. I need you to trust me."
He stared straight ahead, wiping a single tear from his face.
That was the closest she'd ever come to saying that she was actually proud Maddie was his daughter. She'd often felt it, especially in the beginning before she started to believe her own lies, but in her true fashion of running at full speed, she never found it within herself to tell Deacon since everything had been revealed.
She was proud, though, and he needed to know it, now more than ever. His confidence in his ability to be a parent was compromised, his fear of the toxicity he grew up in the culprit.
He stood quickly, taking a tentative step to close the distance between them.
His eyes burned, but not with anger. There was everything else—pain, confusion, forgiveness, and even… love?
She flinched slightly, closing her eyes and bracing herself for what came next. She was almost certain she was seconds away from feeling his lips brush against hers; seconds away from not caring about all of their damage, Luke, or anything else; seconds away from completely falling into the familiar abyss that was Deacon Claybourne.
She kept her eyes closed, feeling him inch closer, and closer, and closer… until he stopped
This is it… or not.
He didn't kiss her.
Instead, he pulled her to him tightly, tangling his hand in her hair and pressing her head deep into his shoulder.
She smiled at his scent and the feel of his warmth as he clung to her there for dear life for what seemed like hours.
Deep down to the very core of her heart she knew that no matter how many times she said it out loud, Luke Wheeler was not her future; he was not her home.
Home was where she was right then; her future was right then.
She thought back to just two days earlier when she found Deacon at the lake house, how she'd glanced above the door and saw a simple sign. She hadn't thought much of it then, but good Lord, it was tearing at her now.
This wasn't just her home or her future, it was her eternity.
She just hoped it was enough.