It was late when Rayna turned onto Hillsboro Pike and headed for home. The traffic lights were on flash, reminding her that Nashville, in many ways, was still a small town. It wouldn't take her long to drive home from the Bluebird. Not long enough to really thoroughly think through what had just happened. She'd have to do that later.
She blamed it on those awful invasive men. Okay, truthfully, they probably weren't really awful. They were just doing their job, with that damn vulnerability study for Teddy's campaign. But it was invasive. All those questions about Deacon. And his trips to rehab. All that private, personal stuff that was nobody's business. She was still protecting him, she knew that.
Fuck it all. She'd walked out, mad. She was polite and all, because she was Rayna Jaymes, but she was still mad at being questioned like that. She found Teddy in the study, after she'd gone back to their bedroom and changed clothes, fixed her hair the way she remembered Deacon liking it, putting on the diamond earrings he'd given her. She hadn't stopped to think about what she was doing, even after she lied to Teddy about where she was going. Until now.
Deacon asked her every now and then to come see him at the Bluebird. Every third Thursday. She hadn't done it before. Thought about it, but hadn't. Because she knew what would happen if she did. But today he had challenged her about it, threw it in her face that she'd never come to see him. So tonight she did.
She knew that she was playing with fire, a bit, but she'd been pissed about all the questions those men were asking her in advance of Teddy's campaign. She liked to keep her private life private and their questions had been so invasive and had stirred up a lot of the feelings she'd long suppressed about Deacon. And then there was the whole Juliette Barnes fiasco. She was pretty sure songwriting wasn't all that was going on between Juliette and Deacon, and the delivery of that guitar had made her furious.
So she told Teddy she had a meeting. He had kissed her and gone back to his campaign prep, not worried at all. It wasn't unusual in the music business for meetings to take place at night, often at bars or in music venues. So Teddy would never have seen it as odd for her to go out at nine o'clock. Thinking about that now made her feel like she had been careless regarding her husband and she felt guilty about that.
When she had gotten to the Bluebird, she parked as far from the entrance as she could, in front of the furniture store. She saw Deacon's truck parked a few spaces away. She turned off the car and sat, wondering what the hell she was really doing there.
The reason she never came was because it brought back memories of when she and Deacon were together. She had worked hard over the last fourteen years to put all those feelings into a bottle and seal them away. After she had spent the first year she was married to Teddy crying herself to sleep every night, she had made a decision to stop.
The feelings were right there still, under the surface, but she had figured out how to compartmentalize them so that she could live every day focused on Teddy and their girls. She had learned how to have Deacon in her life, personally and professionally, every single day and yet not step over the firm boundary she had carefully laid out for them.
Still it was not surprising at all the way things had gone that night.
She finally made herself get out of the car and walk in. It was crowded, but not full. She greeted Erika and watched Deacon on stage. He saw her, she knew that. And so, of course, he called her out and invited her up to sing with him.
When she sat down next to him, he leaned in. "'No One Will Ever Love You.' Okay? You know that's what everyone expects."
She looked at him and hesitated for just a second. Then she gave him a small smile and nodded.
They had written that song about twenty years ago and had introduced it here. She had written some of the lyrics – the first verse – but couldn't make the rest work. It was Deacon who had come up with the second verse, and the idea of a duet, and it had become her most popular song. It was probably the most intensely personal song they had ever written and performed together. They hadn't sung it in nearly fifteen years, though, for obvious reasons. The applause was loud and appreciative when the crowd recognized the opening chords.
As soon as they were done, she knew it had been a mistake. The genie was out of the bottle and there was no way to put it back in. She felt sick to her stomach and yet felt those intoxicating butterflies of anticipation, all at the same time.
They sang two more songs – "Postcard from Mexico" and "American Beauty" and the night came to an end. She couldn't leave right away, as fans streamed up for pictures and autographs and kind words. She was conscious of Deacon just a hair's breadth away from her and she could scarcely breathe.
She smiled warmly, in spite of it all because, after all, she was Rayna Jaymes. And even though she didn't like thinking of herself this way, she was a star and she had a reputation to uphold.
They chatted with Scarlett, then with Watty briefly. Finally the crowd was clearing out.
She ran her tongue over her lips, then looked at him. "I need to go," she said quietly.
He nodded. "I'll walk you out."
She shook her head. "You don't need to."
"I know. But it's late. So I want to."
She nodded and smiled briefly. She followed him out the door. They said nothing to each other as they walked down the sidewalk and then bypassed her car and got into Deacon's truck.
They both sat there, not looking at each other, staring out the windshield. She sighed deeply and looked down at her lap. When she felt Deacon's hand cup the back of her neck, she looked up at him and then leaned in. They kissed hungrily for long minutes, his hand on her neck and hers on his leg. They kissed with all the passion and yearning and longing that had been pent up all those years. The feel of his lips on hers, his tongue battling hers, sent waves of desire coursing through her body. She didn't want to stop kissing him. She wanted something more. Much more.
When she pulled away slightly, he reluctantly let her lips go and leaned his forehead to hers, as they breathed in and out as if one. Then she moved her hand and sat back in her seat and he let his hand drop. They went back to staring out the windshield, knowing that the boundary had been irrevocably breached.
She sat there for a moment, then said, "I wish we hadn't done that song."
He breathed out, his jaw clenching. "Now what are we gonna do?" he asked, his voice tight.
Rayna said nothing, tears pricking at her eyes. She was afraid of what the answer would be to that question. So she got out of his truck and stumbled to her car.
Now she was driving home, to her husband and her daughters. Driving away from the only man she ever truly loved. She wasn't sure how she was going to do this now. She couldn't go back to the way it had been. The dam had been broken and now they would have to figure out how to navigate this all over again. One thing she knew for sure was that if something like that kiss ever happened again, she would probably make a whole different decision than the one she made tonight.
She kept hearing that song playing over and over in her head. That song they had written all those years ago. The one that was like their promise to each other that they were in it for the long haul, that after what was supposed to be Deacon's only trip to rehab, they'd never love anyone else. It had been her promise to him for so many years. No one will ever love you, like I do.
So we've come full circle from the first chapter. This is the end of what I'd had in mind originally for this, but there will be an epilogue. Thanks for reading!