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Deacon stepped lively into the kitchen, quickly pulling a t-shirt over his head and running a smoothing hand over his hair, still sopping wet from the shower.

"Okay, I hurried. What's next?"

Rayna gazed up from the pulled pork sliders she was crafting. She immediately took note of the gray shirt tightly hugging his damp torso and cursed the dangerously tight schedule they'd both be running on for the next five to six hours.

Sighing, she focused her gaze back to the sliders.

"I still don't know why you refuse to hire someone to mow the grass."

He smirked at his wife and grabbed a carrot from the elaborate veggie tray she'd picked up that morning.

"Same reason you've been standing over those tiny BBQ sandwiches since 10 AM. Guess I just don't trust anybody to do it better than I can." As he grabbed another carrot, he realized there were at least thirty completed sliders on the platter in front of her and another two dozen buns ready to go next to the oversized bowl full of pork. "Exactly who all is coming to this thing anyway?"

"Everybody."

Deacon raised his eyebrow and reached for yet another carrot, swiftly dodging his wife's hand as she swatted at him.

"Rayna, he's turning one. Are a hundred people necessary?"

She rolled her eyes.

"There aren't a hundred people coming and it doesn't matter anyway 'cause you're eating all the food."

"I need sustenance. We have a big yard."

Rayna sighed and surveyed the scene in front of her.

It was her son's first birthday, her kitchen was a mess, and their guests would be arriving in less than two hours. She shuddered at the realization that atop everything she just thought of, there were at least fifty other things that needed to be done. Those closest in her circle had all assumed she would host a small, intimate gathering as opposed to the just barely oversized shindig she ended up planning; the barely oversized shindig that had put her in over her head.

Deacon was right—she gave him a hard time for insisting on doing everything himself, all while she insisted on being just as hands on. It always seemed like such a good idea until it wasn't.

"Look, babe, I've got a million things on the list. The tables all need to be set up outside, this mess needs to go, the cake needs to be picked up, Jasper still needs to be dressed, I need to be dressed—"

"Hey," Deacon wrapped his arms around her waist and placed a kiss on her temple. "We'll get it done. Daphne and Tandy are working outside, Jasper's sleeping, and I'll go get the cake. And even if we don't get everything done, aren't we a little old and isn't this a little informal for anybody to be getting gray hair over?"

Rayna sighed and allowed herself to sink back into his chest, halfway relaxing for the first time that day.

"I know, I know. It's just a lot of pressure. He's my last baby and I want everything to be perfect."

"Come on, Ray. It'd be perfect if it were us and the kids in a tent with a can of beans. He'd remember that about the same and our memories would be just as happy."

She smiled.

"Yeah. That actually sounds really good right about now."

Deacon squeezed his arms tighter around her and nuzzled his face in her neck, speaking softly into her ear.

"It's not too late to put them all in the truck and go, you know. Sort of like a first birthday elopement. We could send everyone a gas station postcard."

Rayna laughed and met his lips with hers before shooing him off.

"Not gonna happen, babe. If you could run and get the cake that'd be great. By the time you get back he'll probably be up."

He nodded, taking a quick glance around the kitchen as realization washed over his face.

"I think Maddie still has my keys. Is she upstairs?"

"No, Hunter got here while you were in the shower. They're supposed to be outside helping."

Deacon turned on his heels and exited out the patio door, failing to see his daughter and her boyfriend anywhere.

After a quick peek at the progress for the party setup and confirmation from Tandy that Maddie was nowhere to be found, he sighed and walked down the incline in the yard towards the basement door. Rayna had said for a fact they weren't upstairs, so that's the only other place they could be.

He glanced at his watch. Roughly an hour and a half to go before people would start to arrive.

Get a move on, Deacon.

He sprinted the last few feet to the glass door, freezing in his tracks at the sight before him when he looked in: his daughter, his little girl, sucking sloppy face with her boyfriend.

His heart stopped before it completely fell to his feet. Or maybe it fell to his feet first and then stopped; he couldn't be sure. All he was sure of was the notion that this was the most horrid thing he had ever laid his eyes on. It hurt him. It made him sick. It made him every kind of angry to see Maddie's tongue sliding so effortlessly down this kid's throat.

There was no way it could possibly get worse.

Except, there it was… Hunter's slender hand running along Maddie's side, then over, then…

God. Help. Me.

Deacon turned quickly; awkwardly on his heels and ran back up the hill and onto the patio. He was sure he heard Daphne or Tandy, or maybe even both, trying to converse with him but he couldn't focus. All he saw was red.

He opened the patio door and slammed it shut, finding himself back in the kitchen. Frozen, he stared down at his feet in silence.

Rayna looked up, confused.

"What's the matter? Babe?"

Deacon shook his head, but still said nothing.

"Babe?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Rayna rolled her eyes and went back to her preparation.

"Okay."

Deacon found himself beginning to pace back and forth in front of her, seemingly trying to formulate a sentence in his head. He couldn't hold it back any longer.

"We have a problem."

Rayna rolled her eyes again, meeting his.

"I thought you didn't wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head and steadied his hands on the back of the barstool.

"I don't, but you have to. With her."

Putting down the slider she had just finished, Rayna folded her hands and searched his face.

"What? With who?"

Deacon gripped the barstool tighter, clenching his jaw. Visions of what he had just seen played through his head like the Sugarplum Fairy.

Nightmares.

"Maddie's downstairs with Hunter."

Rayna raised her eyebrow, making no attempt to mask the confusion and annoyance playing dueling pianos on her face.

"Okay?"

She watched her husband's eyes flare wide as he heatedly ran his hands over his face. She could tell he was about to shout.

"Rayna!"

She threw her hands up, shouting back.

"What?!"

"They're making out!"

She stood taken aback for a split second, absorbing his revelation like a sponge. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, trying not to smile at the naivety that still oozed from him from time to time.

He'd technically been a father for give or take about four years, and God and everyone knows he had adapted quickly and become a natural. He'd stepped into the role awkwardly at first, but he'd grown into exactly the kind of parent Maddie needed. He blended well with Rayna and Teddy and every piece of the puzzle had finally conjoined seamlessly.

But every now and then they had a moment like this.

She wanted to resist the urge to be snarky or make fun of him, but he almost made it too easy. And who would she be if she didn't insert a little bit of sass in every aspect of her life?

She let a smirk creep across her face as she brought her eyes to his.

"Tongue and all?"

Deacon fumed.

"God help me."

She rolled her eyes softly, a look of pleading playing them.

"Deacon, they're teenagers."

"Yeah, so were we." He shifted his weight from side to side, tapping his hand on the island. "Rayna, it's time."

She placed her attention half-heartedly back to the sliders, hoping her disinterest would get him to drop the subject and focus on his task at hand.

"Time for what?"

His eyes widened at the idea that she dared to play so dumb.

"You know. It. Aren't you supposed to have some kind of talk with her?"

"Deacon, she's 17."

He sighed, exasperated.

"Right. And she's moving right along."

Rayna let out a breath and narrowed her eyes.

"You're about 5 years too late, babe."

Deacon cocked his head.

"I'm sorry?"

She smiled reassuringly as she worked on the pork sliders.

"She's covered. I got this."

Deacon stepped away quickly.

She tried not to laugh as he turned around to face her, his eyes and veins on the verge of bulging.

"How the hell? Already?!"

Rayna shrugged, again praying to no avail that her dismissiveness would calm him.

"Incrementally."

He shook his head and raised one finger.

"No, no, no. How the hell does one have that talk 'incrementally'?"

Rayna threw the bun down and rolled her eyes, feeling the heat of annoyance rise to her cheeks.

"Well, since you're insisting, she got the basics when she got her first period, a little more with her HPV vaccine, and the full no holds barred spiel about two months ago when she went on the pill. Anything else?"

She stared at him; challenged him.

His eyes were wide, but they weren't angry. They were full of utter fear and dread. She noted that he looked eerily similar to when she had told him she was pregnant with Jasper.

Suddenly, all of the balls were in the court of the almighty.

Suddenly, he held no control whatsoever over the situation.

He shook his head meekly.

"No."

"Good. Now will you please go pick up the cake?"