I'm Only In It For The Love Chapter 11, a nashville fanfic

And I don't mean to change your mind / We've had this talk a hundred times / It's raining like a river down my eyes / And I don't want to talk about / How our hearts are doing now / God knows the both of us have tried / We were so in love, just a couple kids / It's a long way back, again

When she finished, she put her hand over the sound hole and looked at Deacon. She couldn't really read his expression and he didn't say anything at first. She sighed. "You hated it," she said.

He shook his head. "Nah, I didn't hate it. Gotta admit I was surprised a girl who says she's never had a boyfriend and never really kissed a guy could write that." He smiled a little.

She could feel herself blush. "It's all in my dreams," she said.

He looked at her intently. "You dreaming about someone in particular?"

She shrugged, feeling embarrassed, wondering if he knew it was about him, or at least how she dreamed about him. "Um, not really," she said.

He looked a little skeptical, but then he nodded. "Well, you done good on the lyrics," he said. "But it's kinda ballad-y, ain't it?"

She frowned. "It's kind of a sad song. Like they're not able to be together."

"Yeah, I get that, but I think you oughta make it a little, um, more upbeat."

"That doesn't make sense to me, Deacon. It's a ballad. It should sound ballad-y. Why wouldn't it?"

"You hear a lot of ballads on the radio?" he asked. She shrugged. "You don't. Ain't what sells, ain't what gets played." He raised an eyebrow. "You wanna be on the radio?"

"Of course I do."

"Well, then, let's work on something a little more upbeat. Don't have to be no happy song. I get it, it ain't that kinda song, but it don't mean you gotta make it sound like you're at a damn funeral. Make it something people want to listen to."

She had to admit she was a little intrigued with what he might do to it. "What were you thinking?"

He smiled a little. "You got your lyrics out here?"

"They're upstairs. Will you wait?"

He grinned. "Where else would I go? I ain't sure I can find my way back out."

She smiled. "Okay, well, wait here. I'll be right back." She got up and set her guitar aside, then ran back in the house and up the stairs. She found her notebook on her desk and started for the door. She passed in front of the mirror and stopped for a moment, looking at herself. She could see a little color on her cheeks and she breathed in deeply. Then she turned and ran out the door and back down the steps.

He turned when she came out onto the patio. She walked over and sat next to him, holding the notebook against her chest, suddenly a little apprehensive about letting him see what she'd written. He looked at her thoughtfully. "You really dream that all up in your head?" he asked.

"You don't believe me?"

He shrugged. "Ain't that I don't believe you, but, I don't know, seems real somehow." He lifted an eyebrow. "Like it means something to you."

She felt hot inside and looked away. "Well, you know, my sister reads all these books. I mean, read them when she was my age. Romance novels."

He let a smile cross his face. "So you read 'em now?"

She shrugged and then looked at him, feeling herself blush again. "Sometimes."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you know, life ain't always happily ever after."

She tilted her head a little to one side. "I'm not sure I believe that." She breathed in. "I believe in true love and love at first sight and loving someone your whole life. Don't you?"

He shook his head, his eyes getting a sad look to them. "Nah. I ain't never seen that."

"You don't think there's someone out there you might love your whole life?" she asked softly.

He looked at her for a long time, then breathed in deeply. "I don't know," he said finally. He held his hand out. "You gonna let me look at that?"

She took a deep breath, then a little reluctantly handed over the notebook.

####

Deacon had barely hung up the phone from talking to Rayna when it rang again. It was Samantha. "So, what are you doing, baby?" she asked. Ever since the night at Shotgun Sally's, she'd been stuck to him like glue. He'd had mixed feelings about it. He liked Samantha, had fun with her, really enjoyed the sex, but he'd been aware of the fact that, more and more often, he was looking at her through a different lens. Maybe it wasn't fair. After all, Samantha didn't grow up in tony Belle Meade like Rayna did. She'd grown up more like him, in a small town in East Tennessee, migrating to Nashville because it was the big city with the shiny lights.

He knew that probably, if he'd never met Rayna, he would have continued to feel satisfied with Samantha, maybe not forever, but for a while. It wasn't that he thought he had a realistic chance with someone like Rayna Jaymes. She was, after all, the daughter of one of the richest, most powerful men in Nashville, as he'd discovered. And she had the whole world at her feet. Even though she had a voice that was made for radio and the stage, she had so many more options. She didn't need the life of a struggling artist, driving from town to town, playing in local watering holes and dive bars, hoping to get a break.

For now, though, he felt drawn to her, in a way he'd never felt drawn to anyone else. "Um, I'm not feeling so hot," he said to Samantha.

"Oh, sugar, I'm sorry," she said. "How about I come over and bring you some soup? Or just be there?"

No, no, no, no, no. "Uh, maybe not. I'm kinda, you know, bathroom sick," he said.

"Oh." He could picture the look on her face. Samantha was definitely not the nurturing type and she certainly wasn't good with sick. He'd gotten really wasted a few times with her and she had gotten mad when he ended up hugging the toilet. "Well, maybe you just need to stay in bed and call me when you're feeling better," she said.

He smiled a little to himself. "I'll do that," he said. "So, listen, I need to go."

"Okay then." She hung up in his ear and he stood there, holding the phone out and just shaking his head. He put the phone back in the receiver and then went to get his guitar and keys.

He had the piece of paper he'd written down Rayna's address on and he opened the map he'd bought at a nearby gas station. He certainly went to the other side of the river, but he'd never really been in the part of town where she lived. He spread the map out on the hood of his truck and found the area marked 'Belle Meade'. He traced his finger over the route he would take and then refolded the map and got back in to his truck. As he started it, he felt nervous. He was headed into a place that was far beyond his comprehension and he wasn't at all sure he was ready for it.

As he drove down West End, the homes got bigger and more pretentious looking. The cars were nicer and he began to feel out of place. When he got to Lynwood Terrace, he saw the big mansion set back from the street, a huge plot of land out front. He was seriously out of his league. He turned left and made his way slowly up the road. He shifted his eyes right and left, staring at the big, impressive houses on either side. He turned right onto Lynwood Boulevard and slowed down even more, looking for the street address Rayna had given him. When he saw it, on the small, surprisingly unassuming mailbox on the street, he swallowed hard. He couldn't even see the house from the street. There were huge shrubs all along the property line, creating a living privacy fence.

Someone came up behind him and tapped on the horn, which made him realize he'd stopped in the street. He waved and then turned into the driveway. There was a gate, but it was open. He still couldn't see the house. He took a deep breath and slowly made his way up the drive. As he rounded the curve, the huge white mansion rose up in front of him. He'd never seen anything quite like it and he caught his breath as he realized this was the home Rayna lived in.

He kept creeping up the drive and, as he approached the large front porch, he saw Rayna run out of the front door, waving at him. He stopped the truck and just sat, frozen, for a moment. I don't belong here. He was from Mississippi, the son of a violent alcoholic and a woman who was crazy. They weren't poor, but they were definitely lower middle class. He didn't fit in this place and he sure had no business with this privileged girl.

He almost drove away, but he could see the confused look on Rayna's face and he thought about how nice she'd been to him, even after she knew he wasn't her kind. He found his courage to get out of the truck and slowly make his way to the bottom of the steps, where she met him.

"Hey, Deacon," she called out.

"Hey, Rayna," he said, still feeling a little shell-shocked. He looked up the front of the house. He'd never seen anything so big in his life. It seemed as wide as it was tall. He knew it was just Rayna and her father who lived here and he couldn't even imagine needing a house this big. "Wow," he said.

"Thanks for coming over here," she said. Then he looked at her. She looked anxious, like she was afraid he wouldn't like her house or something. "Come on," she said. "We're going to be out back on the patio."

He couldn't even imagine having a patio. They certainly hadn't had anything like that at the house where he grew up. They had a backyard, sure, but that was it. Half dirt, half weeds, to the best of his recollection. Some of those flimsy yard chairs and a bench. He was sure this house didn't have flimsy yard chairs. He followed her into the house and swallowed hard. The entrance led into a large entry room with a huge Oriental rug in front of a wide staircase.

She walked beside him as they headed for the back of the house, but he couldn't help but look one way and then the other. He saw a massive dining room table with a painting of a woman on the wall, dressed in a formal gown. He wondered it that was Rayna's mom. When he looked the other way there was a room that was covered in wood paneling. It looked like a library, almost, with the walls of books. He was afraid to look anywhere else, for fear he wouldn't know what the rooms were.

They passed through a room that seemed more casual, with couches and large arm chairs that looked like you could sink down in them. There was a large fireplace with a painting above it that looked like it must have been Rayna's family. The smallest girl was standing next to who he assumed was the mother, her small hand on her leg. It looked like a very young Rayna, with short red hair in curls and a smile that seemed like she was ready to burst into laughter. Finally they were out on the patio, where there definitely were no flimsy lawn chairs. She directed them to some fancy iron chairs, but he saw steps leading down to the lawn and thought that would be better, so they sat there.

He had never felt more uncomfortable in his life, but when he looked into her face, he forgot all about that.

He thought for a minute she wasn't going to let him see her song, but she finally handed him her notebook. He was intrigued by what she'd written. He really didn't believe her when she said it was all in her head, that it was based on books she'd read. There were some real feelings in there, he could tell. Maybe not the whole song, but there were parts where he could tell there was yearning and a need. He didn't look at the notebook at first, but back at her.

"What did you see in your head when you wrote this?" he asked. She blushed and he was pretty sure he'd hit a nerve, maybe hit close to the truth. Before she could answer, he went on. "You really ain't never had a boyfriend? You gone on a date?"

She frowned then. "Yes, I've gone on a date. More than one actually." She turned on the step to face the back of the yard, her chin tilted up. He knew he'd hit a sore spot.

"I ain't judging," he said. "Just surprised me, is all."

She looked at him then. "I'm just a weirdo. I don't fit in."

He smiled at her. She was as far from a weirdo as he could imagine. "You ain't no weirdo, Rayna. You just are hanging with the wrong people." She looked unconvinced. "You got a special talent. You find people like you, you'll be fine."

She squinted at him. "What makes you so smart, Deacon Claybourne?" He could tell she was teasing him.

He shrugged. "I been around. I seen stuff. And Watty White likes you. You'll be fine."

She sighed. "Well, since I can't get out and go do anything without a car, I'm sure Mr. White will give up on me."

"I can take you." He wasn't really sure how he'd do that, once the words were out of his mouth, but he knew he'd figure it out.

"What about Samantha?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I'll just break up with her," he said.

Her eyes widened. "Don't do that for me," she said. "You like her, I can tell. I don't want to get in your way. I don't want to cause you trouble."

He thought about that. He hadn't really meant to say that, but once the words were out of his mouth, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. He wanted to help Rayna. Something deep down inside him told him that it would be worth it if he did. "Let's think about the music for this song," he said, changing the subject. He looked at the lyrics she had written down then. He looked back at her. "Did you write down your chords anywhere?"

She blushed and shook her head. "No."

He smiled. "That's okay. I'll do it for you. Let me try something, okay?" She nodded and he started to pick out a melody as he worked through her lyrics.

####

Maybe I'll just break up with her. She had shivered inside when he said that. It was like he knew, somehow, what was in her head. Not that she'd thought that exact thought, but that he would be willing to give her up that quickly. But then he'd changed the subject, so she wasn't really sure what to think. He was singing her song, making it a little more upbeat, as he said, stopping periodically to write down chords, so she focused on that.

He worked on the chorus and then played it through for her. "Now sing it with me," he said.

She liked how it sounded and she smiled as they sang it through a second time. "That does sound better," she said. "I like it."

He looked at her. "You ever been in love?" he asked.

He'd caught her off guard and she wasn't sure what to say. "I, uh, um." She was twisting her fingers together in her lap. "I, uh, I don't think so." That wasn't really true. She had thought she was in love with him. Still wasn't sure she wasn't, but she also wasn't sure if it wasn't just that she'd fallen in love with idea of him, with the music he played and the way he sang and the way he smiled. "Have you?"

He shrugged. "Thought I was. But sometimes it's easy to get love mixed up with…other things." She was pretty sure he meant sex. She wondered if he had thought he loved Samantha.

"Do you love your girlfriend?" She couldn't believe she'd actually asked that out loud.

"Nah. I like her, but it ain't love. It ain't…that." She was pretty sure he blushed as he shook his head. He breathed in, then let it out. She saw something in his eyes that looked like longing. "I like you, Rayna," he said, his voice quiet.

Suddenly she had trouble breathing. "I, uh, what," she stammered. "What, you mean, like I'm nice? As a friend?"

"I do like you as a friend," he said. She felt her heart sink. "I want to help you. With your music."

She made herself smile. "Thanks, Deacon. That means a lot. And I like what you did with the song." She felt confused. For a second, she thought he really liked her, as more than just a friend, and now she felt let down. She didn't want him to know it had hurt her, so she put on a brave face.

"We can try it again. All the way through."

She nodded. "I'd like that."

When they were finished she had to admit he was right. It did sound better. It wasn't too peppy, but just right. It had a catchiness to it that she thought would appeal to listeners and the message was a good one.

"So you wanna do it at Robert's? Next week?"

She bit her lip. "I'll have to check to be sure Daddy's not gonna be around." She rolled her eyes. "You must think I'm such a baby."

He shook his head. "Nah. I mean, it would be nice if you was older, but it'll all work out. And I can pick you up on my way to work."

She smiled. "Coming here isn't on your way to work."

He grinned. "True. But I'll do it. Ain't a big deal."

"But how will I get home? Don't you have to work longer than my set?"

"Don't worry. I'll work it out."

She looked at him closely. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He looked puzzled. "'Cause I like you, Rayna. And because you're good." He grinned. "So, you wanna guitar lesson?"

She smiled back at him. "Oh. Yes, I do." She got up and retrieved her guitar, then sat back down on the step. "I'm ready."

####

He wasn't completely sure why he'd offered to come get her. It was true that he liked her. A lot more than he'd let on. She confused him, that much was true. Sometimes he'd forget she was just sixteen. She seemed older in some ways. Her song. It had seemed like someone with a lot more experience in life had written that. Considering she had so little experience with dating and boyfriends, it had surprised him.

He'd let his guard down with her too. It was hard to believe that not so long before, he'd thought Samantha Beasley was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. He'd thought he was pretty lucky to be her boyfriend. But then he'd met Rayna and something had changed. He was sure some of it was that Rayna was so well-mannered and polished. Growing up rich seemed to smooth out all the rough edges, or so he'd believed. Rayna was down-to-earth though. He'd sensed, from the beginning, that she was different, not so perfect. Real.

He hadn't meant to say that he liked her. He'd recovered, but in the moment, he'd sort of lost himself a little bit. He'd seen first the hopefulness in her eyes and then the disappointment. Maybe she did like him, but he didn't want to put her in a difficult spot. His heart ached though, as he thought about how she had bravely smiled at him and just went on.

You ain't good enough for her though. He sighed. He knew that was true. He'd grown up with violence and neglect, drinking and a touch of madness. He'd been afraid of his father growing up, learned to fight back when he got older. He remembered holding a gun on his father, wondering if he'd have the courage to use it. His mother couldn't fight back and eventually seemed to pull inside herself. His father had finally left and his mother had died and he and Beverly had been alone. He couldn't give Rayna the things she deserved, things she may not have thought she wanted, but that he knew one day she would.

He thought he should probably walk away from her, but something kept pulling him back. He sighed and headed for home.

This time when he pulled into her driveway, he didn't feel the same intimidation he had the first time. He still felt a little overwhelmed by the grandeur, but he tried not to let it get to him. Almost as soon as he pulled up and parked, Rayna opened the front door and flew out, her guitar in hand. She ran to the truck and opened the passenger door. "Where do I put my guitar?" she asked.

He shook his head. "You ain't gonna need it," he said.

She frowned. "Why not?"

"I'm gonna play for you. Like last time."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Really. Go put it back." He watched her as she raced back up the steps and put her guitar inside the front door. Then she trotted back down the steps and got in the truck.

She turned and smiled. "Thanks, Deacon."

He smirked. "You still ain't that good, Rayna. Which means I'm a bad teacher. Least I can do is help you out." She stuck her tongue out at him and then she laughed. Things felt back to normal between them, whatever that meant. He didn't want everything to get all heavy. He had nothing to offer her and he didn't want to let either of them get hurt.

As he stood behind her and slightly to her left side, he watched the crowd and how they reacted to her. She really seemed to light up on stage and they seemed to get increasingly drawn in. People walking by on the street would stop to listen and then drift in. She would look back at him periodically and he would smile his encouragement, knowing she really didn't need it.

She wrapped up her set with the song he'd helped her with, the one she called 'Back Again'. He liked how it sounded and the crowd reacted positively to it, giving her a rousing cheer when she was done. "Thank y'all so much!" she cried, as she waved her hands. Then she ran off the stage and he followed behind. He slid his guitar off and she turned to him then. "Thank you so much, Deacon," she said. "That was so amazing!" She stepped forward and put her arms around him and hugged him. He put his arms around her and held her close.

She felt good in his arms. He smelled her hair and closed his eyes. He felt her breasts pressed against his chest and he could feel himself start to respond to her. He stepped back quickly and she looked up at him, a confused look on her face. "I, uh, I'm glad I could help you, Rayna," he said, feeling embarrassed. He took a few more steps away from her. "Uh, Matt's gonna take care of getting you home. I, uh, I gotta get to work." And then he hurried off, leaving her just standing there.

####

She stood there and watched as he walked away from her, feeling like she couldn't breathe. She'd felt such a rush, being on stage, and it had been even better than the first time. She'd been so excited when she came off the stage that she hadn't thought about what she was doing when she hugged Deacon. It had felt good being in his arms. She had pressed her face against his shirt and breathed in his scent. He didn't wear cologne like the boys in school, so it just sort of smelled like…him.

But then he'd held her a little tighter and she'd felt herself pressed against him. Not that she minded it, because she didn't, but then she'd felt something she'd only read about in Tandy's romance novels. He was turned on. That had startled her, confused her a little bit, because she'd never had any real experience with it. She'd told him the truth, that she'd never really kissed a boy. Not the French kissing Tandy told her about. It was always just a peck on the lips and then she usually didn't see them again.

She thought again about what it might feel like to have Deacon kiss her. Really kiss her. And she wondered what it would feel like to lie naked with him. She felt a heat wave pass through her as she considered that. Just then Matt walked up and she knew her face was probably beet red.

"Hey there, Rayna," he said, holding out his hand.

She just stared at him for a minute, then put her hand in his. "Hey," she whispered.

He shook her hand, then smiled. "You were fantastic. I hope you'll come back."

She nodded. "I would…like to."

"You're always welcome." He glanced over his shoulder. "So I told Deacon I'd make sure you got home okay, so I'm gonna get you a cab. Is that okay?" She nodded. He gestured towards one of the front bar stools. "Why don't you sit here and I'll call it for you?"

She nodded again. "Okay," she said, still feeling a little breathless. She got up on the stool and watched him walk away. Another singer got up on stage and she saw Deacon then, hovering over the sound board. He didn't look up even once and it made her feel like crying.

About ten minutes later, Matt came back out and escorted her out front to the cab. She looked over her shoulder as she walked out, but Deacon still wasn't looking in her direction. As she settled into the backseat of the cab, she felt like crying.

As the cab headed up Broadway, she realized she'd forgotten to pick up her tips.

####

He had forced himself not to look up, but he could still see her in his peripheral vision. He was sure he'd scared her off and he wanted to kick himself. Instead he forced himself to focus on what he was doing and then, when he got off work, he called Samantha.

If she was surprised at his apparent insatiability for her, she didn't say a word, just went along for the ride. But all he could see when he looked down at her was Rayna's face and the confusion in her eyes. He tried closing his eyes, but her face was still all he could see. She was in his blood now and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get her out.

Damn.