I never seem to finish any of these stories, but I will, honest. In the meantime, another new one... and this one I WILL finish, by the time season 3 starts. Suvi - this title is in your honour, thanks for breaking my fragile heart time and again with your gloriously painful videos. Allow me to return the favour ;) Possibly not with this one, though Luke is in it, so... that's pretty painful in itself.
She hadn't seen it coming. The night was a blur of noise and colour, the air thick and warm and alive with energy - hers as much as the fans'. It had been one of the best shows of her career, her veins humming with the kind of joy that only came when she was exactly where she was meant to be, exactly when she was meant to be there.
She'd shimmied across the stage, watching how the lights reflected off her dress and showered the first couple of rows in playful luminous flecks. Every note her band had played, every word that had spilled from her mouth had resonated right down to her toes, and more than once she'd felt the need to pinch herself.
She'd been completely caught off guard when Luke had fallen to one knee.
Her immediate thought - one she'd felt naive for later - was that he'd dropped something, but the cheers from the crowd had clued her in just quickly enough to save her from making a complete fool of herself. She'd almost thrown up right there on stage with the shock.
If it had felt like a long time to Luke waiting for her answer, it had felt like an eternity to her trying to find one to give. She'd squinted out into the crowd as though they would be able to help, but there was really only one option; the Queen of Country didn't disappoint seventy thousand fans in one fell swoop. And Luke, kneeling there looking up at her, full of hope and so uncharacteristically nervous - she couldn't embarrass him in front of all those people, and she didn't want to. The delight on his face when she'd accepted had made her happy; he made her happy.
But now there were no lights, there were no people. All was still, quiet. Rayna sat curled in a ball on the couch, her knees tucked up to her chest in the same position she'd stumbled into after Deacon had walked out the door and left her gripping the kitchen counter for dear life.
There was a lot about tonight she hadn't seen coming.
She felt better, maybe, in the shadows. It was easier to hide in the shadows - from other people... from herself. She was hiding from her phone, too. She'd heard it - albeit vaguely, she wasn't really concentrating - ring at least six times, and she knew every call was from Luke. Her new fiancé Luke. He'd want to talk to her, she knew, to be excited with her now his kids had gone to bed.
Seventy thousand fans, every one of them screaming. Her girls, down in the pit with Tandy and Teddy, all of them watching. And Deacon. Luke had asked her to marry him in front of Deacon.
The tabloids the next day were sure going to be interesting.
Rayna took a deep breath, the sound loud in the silence. The empty house was a limited reprieve - tomorrow all hell would break loose. Luke would be here early, her children back from Teddy's at lunchtime when he went to give a press conference at City Hall. Her sister would doubtless beeline for her as soon as she woke up, gushing over wedding plans: flowers, venues, a dress. A dress. God help her.
She shook her head back and forth, a feeble attempt to quiet her turmoil. Her left hand felt strange, too heavy, the equivalent of a down payment on a country mansion sitting cold and unfamiliar on her finger. She lifted it up to inspect it. It was beyond extravagant - she would never be able to shower with it on. She wouldn't be able to do much at all with it on.
In her other hand, still squeezed tightly into a fist so that it burned its shape into her palm, was Deacon's ring. A simple silver band, nothing much at all, and yet everything. She hadn't dared uncurl her fingers, couldn't so much as look at it, she knew she would crumple if she did, but she couldn't let go of it either.
Her lips still tasted of him when she ran her tongue over them.
'Damn you Deacon,' she said, to no one.
She was glad there was no one to see her cry.
#
She gave up on sleep when the birds started singing outside her window. The couch mocked her in how comfortable it was and how uncomfortable she was, and she gave one last fruitless toss and turn before she threw back the blanket she'd covered herself with and jumped up, suddenly full of energy. Too much energy; she cleaned the kitchen, made every bed in the house, polished every panel in the damn study in some twisted act of masochism, though when she tried to pick apart what she was punishing herself for she only became more agitated and ended up flinging the cloth across the room and going out for a run.
The chilly morning air on her face soothed her some, the light drizzle of rain welcome, and she slowed to a steady pace, peering at the still-dark windows of the huge Belle Meade piles. It helped, until she passed Mrs Winterbourne's house a couple of streets over. As she wondered why on earth anyone would be voluntarily tending to their dahlias at un-Godly o'clock, the old woman waved a jiggly arm in the air and called out to her.
'Mornin' Rayna Jaymes,' she said, and Rayna waved back politely without slowing, but the woman wasn't done. 'Heard your news - fine man, Luke Wheeler. You must be ever so happy.'
Rayna paused, turning back and resting a hand on her hip while she caught her breath. She had no idea what to say, no careful response ready to offer near-strangers who thought they knew her because they'd seen her face in the papers more times than they'd had hot dinners, so she smiled, hoping it looked vaguely genuine.
'Myself, I always thought you'd marry that Claybourne fella. Saw his truck here late last night - come to congratulate you did he?' Mrs Winterbourne continued, chopping at a rogue dandelion with her secateurs, and Rayna's forced smile fell and shattered on the ground. The woman watched her reaction, her expression too knowing, and Rayna backed away, hightailing it down the street without a word.
She ran as fast as she could all the way home and locked the door. It was clearly safer inside.
She was gripped with a sudden panic - how could she leave her house again to face people? There would be so many congratulations, so many of those isn't it wonderful? smiles. It wasn't that she thought she'd made a mistake accepting Luke's proposal, and it wasn't that she thought the thing to do was to hurl herself into Deacon's arms, even if that was what every cell of her body seemed to want. It wasn't a choice between the two of them, or a decision she felt she needed to make - it was just plain confusion. She had no idea how the hell she felt, about any of it. How would she accept people's good wishes when she didn't even know what she wished for herself? And Mrs Winterbourne, old busybody - how was she up so late curtain-twitching and wide awake before the sun was even fully risen?
Rayna looked around, wondering in all seriousness if the food in the pantry would keep her and the girls going long enough for it all to have blown over. Maybe they could emigrate. Maybe she could get a blonde buzz cut and ditch the rhinestones and no one would recognise her.
'Come to congratulate you did he?'
Something like that. Rayna leaned against a cupboard, closing her eyes and letting herself drift for a moment - just a moment - back to his pick-me speech, his breath on her face and a hand in her hair, his other gripping her waist and holding her to him. She couldn't have stepped away from him even if she'd had any desire to do so; he always had that effect on her - she lost her shit every time when it came to Deacon. She was sure beyond all doubt that he could get her to jump off a cliff with him just by turning on that low voice and trailing his fingers across her skin.
And when he kissed her... there was no hope for her, there really wasn't. She'd been kissing him back before she'd even realised what she was doing, and it was too late then, she was completely at his mercy and his tongue was in her mouth and she could feel his strong shoulder flexing underneath her palm.
'Babe?'
The voice startled her, and for a second she had no idea who it was, until a giant bunch of flowers walked through the kitchen door with Luke's head popping out from behind them.
'Hey,' he said, his grin a mile wide, and Rayna's heart thudded in her chest, guilt rushing through her. She stayed rooted to the spot and he eyed her quizzically.
'Little shell-shocked there?' he asked, putting the flowers down on the counter in the exact spot Deacon had had her pinned. She felt like she'd swallowed razor blades, and it took every bit of effort she could muster to wrench herself out of her head and greet Luke when he walked towards her.
'Hey,' she said, letting him wrap her up in his arms and kiss her. It felt strange, almost foreign, but when he pulled back to look at her she saw the warmth in his face. 'Hey,' she repeated with more conviction, and he tightened his hold on her.
'I'm sorry I had to go - I missed you somethin' rotten. But hey, we never have to spend another night apart again,' he said, brushing a strand of hair off her face. 'You made me the happiest man in all the world last night Rayna.'
She watched the way his eyes crinkled as he gazed down at her almost reverently, and something in her stomach fell away.
'I know it seems sudden,' he said, scratchy sincerity in his voice, 'but I just love you, Rayna. I just love you so damn much. I never wanted anything so bad in my whole life as I want you to be my wife.'
She smiled up at him, and the fog in her head receded, her shoulders relaxing. 'I love you too,' she told him, and she did. She loved the way his hand shook just the tiniest bit when he held hers, as though he was still apprehensive about her acceptance - he was so confident, so bold in every part of his life; the only thing she'd seen him insecure about was the reciprocation of his feelings for her. She loved the look of blissful disbelief on his face, like he couldn't quite believe what a lucky sonofabitch he was.
'Those flowers are beautiful,' Rayna said, and when he turned to pick them up and hand them to her, she pulled the diamond ring from the pocket of her jeans and slid it onto her finger. 'Now didn't I hear you say somethin' about pancakes?'