He turned off the highway and headed down the old rural road. It was still warm and the leaves hadn't quite started to turn. It was a little desolate out here, which was one of the reasons he'd liked it. That he and Rayna had both liked it. About three miles down the road he turned onto a gravel and dirt road. On a day like this, when the sun was out, it was an easy drive to the private, unnamed lake. When it rained or snowed, it was a treacherous trip, one he was always glad he had his truck for.

He rounded the curve in the road and pulled up next to the simple, white lake house he'd bought nearly ten years earlier. He'd bought this place for Rayna, a place for them to get away to. It was her dream house, the one she'd described to him one night when they were both very young, barely scraping together enough money for food and the rent on a studio apartment.

They were sitting outside on a hot, sticky summer night, on the edge of the apartment pool, with their feet dangling in the lukewarm water. It was well after midnight and they'd just come back from playing at a biker dive bar in up in Portland. It had taken all his self-control not to go off on the drunk bikers yelling at Rayna to "show us your tits!" He still bristled just thinking about it.

"I wish we didn't have to play in those kind of crap places," he'd muttered angrily.

She bumped her shoulder against his. "Oh, Deacon, it's okay. They're just drunk. I'm sure not gonna show 'em my boobs." She laughed.

He scowled. "You're damn right you ain't," he said. "Only person gets to see those is me."

She laughed, a rich, throaty laugh. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "I love how you take care of me, Deacon," she said, with a smile. Then the smile faded as she gazed deep into his eyes. "I love you."

He turned his body slightly towards hers, looking deeply into her eyes as well. He lifted his hand and ran it over her cheek, then pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love you too. And I'll always be there, baby. I just wish I could give you everything you deserve," he murmured.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "One day we'll have it all, I just know it," she said softly, smiling at him.

He brushed his lips against hers. "What's your dream, baby?" he asked.

She looked thoughtful and then she surprised him a little. He'd expected her to talk about her career, but instead she said, "I'd love to have a house on a lake or a river. Just a simple house, where we could be together, away from the world. Just the two of us." She blushed a little. "And maybe one day raise a family there."

He ran his hand along her bare leg. "I'm gonna get you that place one day, baby. I promise." Then he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I wanna see your boobs."

She swatted him on the arm and laughed. Then she untangled herself from him and lifted her feet out of the pool and stood up. She looked back down at him. "You've gotta catch me first," she said, and then she started to run towards the apartment.

He pulled his feet out of the water and sprang up and ran after her, catching her at the door. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck as she giggled, fumbling with the key. Then he ran his hands up and cupped her breasts, running his thumbs over them, feeling her lush curves and her taut nipples. She moaned for a second, pressing herself against him. Then she got the key in the lock and opened the door, dragging him in behind her.

He sat in the truck, looking at the house. He hadn't been up here in a while. Not since he'd started seeing Taylor. He couldn't imagine bringing anyone else up here, but it had been a long time since Rayna had been at this house. He knew for sure that it had been before she broke up with him, before that fourth aborted try at rehab. There was still that vague memory of her having been there one other time, but he couldn't nail it down in his head and he'd decided it was his mangled memories that were playing tricks on him.

He got out of the truck and walked towards the lake. There was no breeze and the water was still. It didn't matter exactly when the last time was she'd been there. It had been too long ago and she would probably never come here again. He knew he probably should sell the place, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was the last piece of her he had and he was going to hang on to it.

It was also the place where he could get away from everything. When life got tough and the emotions threatened to overwhelm him, he came here. He could separate himself and no one could reach him and it allowed him to work through whatever was happening and get back to center. And he surely needed that right now. He knew he would miss the CMA's and Rayna would probably be mad as hell about that too. But it felt like she had pulled the rug out from underneath him and he knew if he didn't get away, he might not make it.

~nashville~

She'd finally found a dress for the CMA's. The show was just three weeks away. She didn't really think she and Deacon would win, but she was excited anyway. Tim McGraw had a huge hit with 'Live Like You Were Dying' and she was pretty sure that would take home the prize. But it was always exciting to be nominated.

She and Deacon had written lots of songs over the years, mostly when they were together. Many of them were huge hits, but they'd never had a songwriting nomination. Deacon was the true songwriter, although he always told her that her contributions were equally as valuable. She felt much more comfortable with lyrics than with the music, something Deacon was highly skilled at. When she was writing on her own she often enlisted a cowriter, for the music, if nothing else. This, though, felt incredibly satisfying.

She had just left the dress shop, where she'd tried on the dress for alterations. It was simple and elegant, a cream colored dress with a gold sequined belt and straps. She'd felt a little like a Grecian goddess in the dress and had decided to wear her hair up and a pair of statement earrings. She thought again about the song she and Deacon had written. It had come fairly easily. They both insisted it was not a song about the two of them, but she knew, at least in part, it was.

They'd had such a long, troubled history, but it had also been filled with many magical moments. But now they were truly standing on different sides of the river, figuratively and literally. It was hard to deny her feelings for him, when she saw him nearly every day. At first, she'd told herself he was a temporary fill until she could figure something else out for a lead guitar player. And, truthfully, she should have done just that. Not let herself get comfortable with the familiar, because all that was leading to was heartache.

She found herself on Lynwood Boulevard and then she turned into the drive that led to her father's house. She knew he wouldn't be home, so it was safe to stop by. She ran up the steps to the front door and let herself in. Then she took the stairs up to her old bedroom.

It always surprised her that he'd left the room essentially the way it had been when he'd kicked her out at the age of sixteen. It was still painted the light pink she'd begged for when she was ten years old. The white eyelet lace comforter and pillow shams were still there, along with three small hot pink velveteen pillows. The furniture was all white, the perfect room for a young pre-teen. She wondered, as always, why she'd never updated it.

She walked over to the guitar stand, where the old, beat up guitar her mother had given her was displayed. She ran her fingers over it. She'd never been very good at it, although she'd tried hard. Deacon had been kind when he'd told her she might want to just stick with singing and let him do the guitar work. She'd been hurt by that, but she was also smart enough to know he was right. Maybe one day she'd give this guitar to Maddie. Her older daughter, not surprisingly, seemed to have an affinity for music already.

She'd left home so young that, besides the guitar, there was scant evidence of her love for music in the room. Except for her memory box. She walked into the huge closet and sat down on the floor. She reached under one of the shoe shelves and pulled out a long, slender box. She'd brought it here just before she'd married Teddy, hoping to hide away all her mementos and memories. It was a symbolic way of putting to bed her past with Deacon, or so she hoped.

She opened the box. Right on top was the straw hat Deacon had bought her on their two-day jaunt to Mexico. They had been in San Diego for a show and had a couple days off before they had to be in LA. Deacon was the one who'd suggested they go across the border to Mexico and they'd ended up in a small beach town in a cheap oceanfront motel.

The place was clean, but that was about all it had going for it. The sheets were rough and nearly gray in color. The furnishings were meager and cheap. The small TV in the room didn't work. The air conditioning was a window unit that clattered loudly all night and kept the room only slightly cool. It had rained both days they were there, which just meant they'd spent two days in bed, alternating between making love and writing songs. The morning they were to leave it dawned sunny and hot and, as they'd taken a walk along the beachfront, Deacon had bought her the hat, to keep the sun off her face.

She'd worn it for years after that and it had always reminded her of that little getaway to Mexico. She took it out of the box and put it on her head as she went through the rest of the contents.

Some of the items just had sentimental value, like old set lists and coasters from places where they'd played. But some brought tears to her eyes, like the napkin Deacon had written 'A Life That's Good' on. She looked at Deacon's familiar scrawl, faded now to a very light blue. He'd only written the first verse and the chorus and had finished it later. But she remembered the night he played the song for her and then, practically blushing, he'd given her the napkin. She had cried when he told her he'd been inspired just by looking at her. She told him she'd fallen in love with him inside of five minutes that night. The truth was it hadn't even taken that long.

Her first recording contract was in the box. That had been both exciting and scary. It had meant she'd finally accomplished her dream, but the idea of five albums had been a little terrifying. It was such a risk, but thankfully it had paid off for her.

Deacon's album was in the box. He'd done it with her encouragement. When it had died a quick death, she'd felt responsible. It was a great album, but the fact that it turned out to be a stiff had driven him deep down inside himself. He'd been wasted most every day for a month, drowning his sorrow over having taken the risk and lost. She knew he'd come to Nashville, like every other singer and songwriter, to be a star. It had taken a long time before she'd finally stopped beating herself up for being the one to have that success. He'd never blamed her or begrudged her, had always supported her, but she knew that failed album had caused him much pain.

She got up and put the album on the record player in her room and went back to the box, the room filling with the sound of his voice. The playbill from their debut at the Opry was there, back when they billed themselves as a duo. She'd been so excited that night. It had been a whirlwind and her heart had been beating out of her chest the entire time they were on stage. She still got a little thrill every time she stepped out on that stage.

There were lots of guitar picks, many of which she'd painted with little hearts and their initials. She picked out the pictures, one by one, of the two of them. On stage mostly, but also some pictures taken by members of her band. It struck her that, so often, they were touching. Holding hands, arms around each other, but sometimes just hands brushing against each other or his hand on her thigh. She breathed in as she looked at them. They always made her heart hurt just a little, these days. Many of those pictures were from their early days, when things weren't so difficult, when their love was new and fresh.

And then there, at the very bottom, was the little velvet bag. She picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand. Most times, when she looked in the box, she left it alone. But today she pulled the cord to open it and turned it upside down, letting the silver ring fall into her hand. She held her palm flat, spreading out her fingers, as she looked at it laying there. It had three tiny diamonds nestled into the etching of vines around the ring. Holding it in her hand, she could almost feel it burn with all those unfulfilled promises.

Deacon had given her the ring one night at the cabin. She thought he was sober and she'd let her guard down. She and Teddy hadn't been dating all that long, back then, and she'd felt slightly disloyal when she'd gone to the cabin with Deacon. But then he'd surprised her with the ring, asking her to marry him. She'd looked into his eyes and had seen the Deacon she'd fallen in love with, clear-eyed and in control. So she said yes. Except that he wasn't in control and, just like all the other times, once he felt comfortable with her back in his life, he started drinking again. Which is how she'd found him the next morning, so drunk he didn't even remember anything about the night before.

She'd thrown the ring at his feet, but it had rolled away under a chair. After she'd gotten dressed, she'd found it and put it in her purse. Then she'd taken his keys and driven back to Nashville, leaving him there. Cole had picked her up at Deacon's and taken her home, then gone to the cabin to pick Deacon up. She'd sworn right then and there she was truly done with Deacon Claybourne. For good.

Except that six weeks later she'd missed a period and she was sick every morning. Six weeks later she knew she was pregnant with Deacon's baby and her life was never going to be the same.

She'd always wanted to marry Deacon, practically from the moment she met him. They had talked often about their future together, about the family they would have, about growing old together. But marriage never was in the cards for them. At first, it was because they were so focused on building their careers, but then it became his drinking. Instinctively, she'd known marriage to an alcoholic would be difficult and, because they wanted a family, she'd also known she couldn't bring children into that kind of relationship. But then that one magical night at the cabin, she'd thought it was finally time, that she could trust him finally.

She often thought it was because they'd been apart for several months, that being away from the daily grind of watching over an alcoholic had softened the edges for her, made her more hopeful than she should have been. She had been devastated to discover she'd been wrong about him, yet again. But now here he was, five years sober, far longer than he'd ever managed to stay sober before. He was all that she ever wanted, but now it was too late for them. She'd made a decision, back when she'd married Teddy, and now she'd put the final seal on it when she'd given birth to Teddy's daughter.

She looked at the ring, feeling sad for the lost opportunities, then dropped it back in the bag. She pulled the cord tight and buried the bag in the bottom of the box. She pushed herself up off the floor and went to the record player. She picked the needle up, turned off the player, and put the album back in the cover. She put the record in the box, put the top back on and slid it back under the shelf.

She cried all the way home.

~nashville~

Deacon was working on some music when his phone rang. He set his guitar down and picked up the phone. Rayna. "Hey, Ray," he said, as he held the phone to his ear.

"Hey there. So, Bucky called today and we've been asked to perform at the CMA's."

"Really?"

"They want us to do 'The Rivers Between Us'. We'd be the fourth performance." She paused. "I'd like us to do the duet version. If that's okay."

"Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

"No reason." She paused again. "So, I booked a couple days at the end of the week for us to rehearse. At Sound Check."

"Sounds good. What time?"

"Two. Thursday and Friday."

"I'll be there." He could hear her breathing, so he didn't disconnect.

"I don't think we'll win," she said finally.

He rubbed his hand over his face. "It don't matter. Being nominated is a big deal."

He could hear her sigh. "I know. But, I don't know, I guess it's kind of a special song for me, or something. From the night I got inducted into the Opry."

He breathed out. "It's still a good song, Ray. Win or lose."

"I know." She was silent for a long moment. "Well, I'll see you Thursday, okay?"

"Sure. Bye, Ray."

"Bye." And she hung up.

He sat looking at his phone for a minute, then finally put it down on the coffee table. He leaned back on the sofa and ran his hands over his face. She'd been nominated, plenty of times. She'd been nominated twice since he'd been back in her band. But this was the first time they'd done this together. He knew they wouldn't be sitting together. She would be close to the front – with Teddy – and he'd be farther back, with the non-famous nominees.

He'd gone with Rayna several times to awards shows. He'd also missed awards shows because he was drunk. Of course, he'd missed lots of things because he was drunk. He thought back to the first awards show they'd gone to. Rayna was nominated for the Horizon Award and she was also asked to present. She'd just turned twenty-one and she was beyond excited. That was also the day he'd taken her to see the cabin. He'd bought it for her. Her dream house. They almost hadn't made it back in time for rehearsal.

She didn't win that year – she took home the trophy the next year – but it had been an exciting night just the same. He'd been so proud of her as he watched her present the CMA for Vocal Duo of the year with Pam Tillis. She'd looked so pretty that night and she'd been so starstruck. He'd surprised her with a limo to take them to and from the show and on the way home, she'd hit the button to raise the privacy window and they'd done some seriously heavy petting.

She practically tumbled out of the limo when they got to their apartment, giggling as though she were drunk, with the strap on her dress down across the top of her arm, her shawl twisted around her shoulders and her shoes off. She hurried up the steps, pausing to wait for him to catch up, and then she grabbed his hand and they raced the rest of the way up to the door. He tried to put the key in the lock, but she slid her hand down between his legs, rubbing him suggestively.

"Oh, God, baby, let's get inside," he'd moaned and then she pressed herself against him and kissed him. He grabbed onto her hair and hungrily kissed her back. Then he pulled his lips away and moved his hand down her back and focused on unlocking the door. When he got the door open, he pushed her inside. She ran towards the bedroom and he followed her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back into his embrace.

Their lips crashed against each other and their tongues fought each other. They were both breathing hard and started pulling at each other's clothes. Finally he turned her so she was facing the small chest of drawers. He lifted the back of her dress and pushed inside her until she cried out his name.

He took in a deep, shuddering breath and then shook his head as though to rid himself of the memory. It certainly wouldn't be like that this time. If they didn't win, they might not even see each other at all.

~nashville~

She watched him as he packed up his messenger bag and put his guitar in its case. She thought about how predictable he was in so many ways. He did things the same way. He kept things until they wore out or broke. She remembered how everything still looked the same in the house, when she went back for the few things she'd left behind when he went to rehab the fourth time. Even though she'd broken up with him, her pictures were still out, the concert posters still on the wall. It was as though he was waiting for her to step back into his life.

She thought now that the predictability of his life gave him something to hold fast to while he navigated sobriety. It was something he could control, that sameness.

She'd watched over him for all those years. Watched him nearly destroy himself – and her – as she fought to keep him safe. Fought to keep him alive. She never truly forgot the terror of not knowing where he was or how he was, those days and nights when he went missing. She still sometimes woke up in the night remembering how she'd lean over to see if he was breathing, only to see Teddy lying beside her, perfectly fine. She wondered sometimes if she'd ever stop worrying about him, even though he wasn't her responsibility to worry over anymore.

She had worried after he told her he and Taylor had broken up. She'd watched him pull inside himself, as he typically did, stepping away in solitude. It was always times like that, in those dark days, when she worried the most, when she watched the most. She couldn't shake the habit.

He'd seemed even more quiet than usual. Deacon had never been one for small talk and he was not the gregarious sort, always seeming to be uncomfortable in crowds or unfamiliar situations. He preferred just a few friends around him, a more solitary life. But he seemed more withdrawn than usual when they'd headed out on the buses after the short break. He'd even declined her invitation to ride on her bus.

They were getting ready for sound check in Raleigh, a week into the tour. Other than sound checks and shows, she'd seen little of him and he'd been more quiet than usual. He looked sad, she thought, and weary. She finally walked up to him. "Hey, Deacon." He turned to face her. She screwed up her face. "You okay?"

He looked at her for a moment and then nodded curtly. "Yeah. I'm good." He turned away, pulling things out of his bag.

"You sure?" Because she wasn't. "Everything okay with Taylor?"

He stopped and was just still for a moment, his hands on his hips. He breathed out and then turned to face her. "No, it ain't. We broke up. And I don't wanna talk about it." He frowned at her.

She admitted to herself she wasn't surprised, but he looked both hurt and a little angry. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to put her hand on his arm. He shook off her hand and stepped back. "Really, I am."

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, his voice clipped and a little louder than before, as though he thought she hadn't heard him the first time. He raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

She nodded. "Sure." She put her hands up and stepped back. "Sure." Then she watched him turn and walk away.

She'd been watching him since. Keeping an eye on him to be sure he was okay. A few weeks later she'd asked him about how his program was going and if he was making his meetings and he'd barked at her to leave him alone. She resisted her impulse to keep asking him how things were, but she kept watching. And finally he seemed to have worked through it and gotten back to his normal self. She'd verified he was still going to the meetings that she'd required of him when she'd originally hired him back and, although she would always keep an eye on him, she let herself relax.

Rayna set Maddie's plate down in front of her at the table and then went back to get plates for herself and Teddy. Daphne was sitting in her high chair, shoving Cheerios in her mouth. As she was walking back to the table, Maddie started talking to Teddy. "Mama sings so pretty, Daddy," she said.

Teddy looked up at Rayna and smiled, then focused back on Maddie. "Did you sing with Mama today?" he asked.

Maddie picked up her fork and stabbed a chicken nugget, biting off a bit and chewing. She shook her head and then, after she swallowed, said, "Mama and Deacon sang today. That song from the opera."

Rayna's smile faded a little as she set the plates down. She could see Teddy's jaw tense. She had picked up Maddie from school and taken her to Sound Check. The little girl had been thrilled to see Deacon and he had seemed genuinely happy to see her. "Opry, sweet girl," she corrected.

Maddie looked at her, waving her fork. "Opry." She looked back at Teddy. "They sing pretty together."

Teddy smiled at Maddie. "I'll bet," he said, then cut his eyes over to Rayna. The smile was still on his face, but it did not reach his eyes. "So you were doing what today?" he asked, his voice just slightly brittle.

Rayna sat down and smiled tightly. "I told you, Teddy, I was asked to perform at the CMA's."

Teddy shook his head. "With him?"

"We wrote the song together." She cut her eyes over to Maddie. "We can talk more about it later."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you can rest assured we will do that." He turned back to Maddie and focused on her.

Rayna felt queasy and just picked at her food.

It was Teddy's night to put the girls down for the night. Rayna sat in the den, flipping through a Country Weekly magazine she wasn't even really looking at, as she waited. She felt sure Teddy was going to fly off the handle about her singing with Deacon. Just what she was trying to avoid by not talking about it. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and she took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the magazine.

"So, when were you going to tell me this little tidbit of information, Rayna? That you and Deacon were singing at the show and not just you," he asked, his voice tinged with anger.

She looked up. Teddy's face was flushed and he stood with his hands on his hips. She could feel the tension. She sighed. "I'm not sure why you would have thought he wouldn't be on stage with me, babe," she said, evenly. "We wrote the song together."

"And you're going to sing it together?" he asked.

She looked away and then back at him. "Of course, we're singing it together."

He shook his head. "You're singing it the way you did in the studio," he said. "The way you told me you would not sing it."

She shook her head. "I told you we wouldn't sing it like that at the Opry." She knew she was being deliberately evasive, but she didn't want to argue.

He laughed sharply, an ugly sound. "I don't know why I believe anything you say about him, Rayna," he said. "I told you it was a mistake to hire him back, but you did it anyway. And now you're all emotionally wrapped up in him and all his drama, just like I knew you would be."

She frowned, then threw the magazine on the coffee table and stood up, walking over to him. "I am not all emotionally wrapped up in him, Teddy," she said, her voice sharp. "He has his life and I have mine."

"Oh, please, Rayna. Don't act like I'm oblivious. You told me, no, you promised me, he wasn't riding on your bus, and yet I find out that, in fact, that's exactly what he does." She opened her mouth to say something, but he waved her off. "Don't deny it, Rayna. Our daughter told me that little tidbit, too. You should have considered that when you decided to carry on your little affair right in front of her."

Rayna gasped. "I am not having an affair! How dare you!" She stepped closer to him, narrowing her eyes and lowering her voice. "All he does is ride with us so we can write. Nothing more. And not every day. Plus he doesn't stay on my bus. I would never cheat on you, Teddy, and I sure wouldn't do it in front of our daughter."

Teddy smirked. "At least you remember she's our daughter. Are you going to tell me you don't do this so that she develops a relationship with him?"

Rayna looked away, then back at him. "No. I do want her to have a relationship with him. But as a family friend, Teddy. If he's not going to know she's his flesh and blood, I want him at least to have a relationship with her."

Teddy shook his head. "It's a slippery slope, Rayna. I think it's a good thing she's not going out on the road with you anymore. It's not healthy for her to have a relationship, as you say, with a drunk."

Rayna's eyes flashed with anger. "Stop it! Just stop it!" she hissed. "He's been sober for five years. And he would never, ever hurt her."

Teddy breathed out. He raised his hand and pointed his finger towards Rayna. "He's a bad influence. I realize I can't tell you what to do with your own life and career, although I've certainly told you how I feel and asked that you respect my feelings, which you don't, but I can certainly get involved when it has to do with my daughters. I already have to hear Maddie talk about Deacon like he's some sort of god and I am telling you I don't want him around our girls."

"Teddy, you're being ridiculous! Deacon is not a threat to the girls. That's just not true." She was livid.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rayna, but I'm going to have to insist on this. And, if you have any feelings for me at all, you'd consider distancing yourself from him."

"I can't believe you would even say that, Teddy. You're my husband. I love you. I would never disrespect you that way. Deacon is in my band, and that's it." She threw her hands up then and walked away. "I can't even believe we're having this conversation."

"Well, believe it, Rayna. And remember, this is all your doing." He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving her fuming.

She threw herself down on the couch, tears filling her eyes. This is impossible. I've worked so hard to manage those boundaries. She knew she'd done nothing wrong. She'd tried always to be honest with her husband. She hated feeling caught in the middle like this.

When she finally went to bed, the room was dark and Teddy was laying on his side towards the window. She could tell he wasn't asleep, but she said nothing as she changed into a t-shirt and pajama shorts and crawled into bed. She lay with her back to Teddy and closed her eyes, but there was very little sleep for either of them that night.

~nashville~

He thought Rayna looked out of sorts on Friday when they met at Sound Check. She seemed distracted as they started to practice, forgetting the words, losing her place. He finally stopped playing and she looked at him with an irritated look on her face. "What's going on, Ray?" he asked.

She scowled and then threw her hands up in the air. She walked over towards the edge of the stage, then back, her hands on her hips, looking off in the distance. "Nothing, Deacon," she said. Then she looked at him. "Not a damn thing."

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't seem like it to me," he said.

She threw her hands up again. "I told you it was nothing," she shouted. "Stop badgering me!"

He frowned and pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder and walked over to her. "Hey, I ain't badgering you," he said. "I'm just asking 'cause you seem a little out of sorts today. We don't have to practice, if you got other stuff going on." He was startled then when she put her hands to her eyes and burst into tears. He took a step closer to her. "Hey, Ray, I'm sorry if I upset you."

She didn't look at him. "It's not you," she said, her voice shaky.

He went and set his guitar in its case and then walked back to her. "We don't have to finish," he said. "What's going on? Is it the girls?"

She looked at him, her eyes red with tears. She looked tired, he realized, tired and anguished. "It is, but it's not." She took a deep breath. "Teddy and I had this awful fight about us doing the song at the CMA's. I guess I didn't specifically tell him you were doing it with me, but he should have known that. I mean it's our song." She looked at him. "Maddie was going on about seeing you and he just got all bent out of shape. I don't even know why."

His heart hurt, hearing her pain. "You know, I don't have to do this…."

She waved her hand at him. "Of course you do. It's our song, Deacon. I don't know. It's like he's jealous, or something." Tears started down her face again. "We haven't done anything that he could be jealous about and I just don't know if I can stand that another second."

He took two steps towards her and put his arms around her, initially just wanting to comfort her. After a moment, though, she put her arms around him, and he started thinking about how good she felt and how good it felt to hold her. He put his finger under her chin and turned her head up to look at him. "It'll be okay, baby," he said. Then he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. For a second, he thought she was responding to him, but then she pushed against his chest. Hard.

Her eyes were flashing. "What are you doing?" she cried.

He felt a wrench in his heart. She'd seemed so unhappy, so upset with Teddy. "I…I don't know," he whispered.

She backed up. Her tears were gone, replaced with anger. "I'm not available for you, Deacon," she said. "That hasn't changed. I thought you understood that. I was clear with you about that."

Something inside him snapped. He raised his eyebrows. "Really? Really, Ray?" He waved his hand and then put both hands on his hips. "Seems to me you been pulling me in closer and closer, all this time. Blurring the lines. Meeting me in private. Writing songs again. Writing this song." He breathed out and ran his hand over his mouth, looking up towards the ceiling, then back at her. "I think you want it both ways."

She shook her head and scowled. "That's absurd! Just because I care about you does not mean I want to cross the line with you. There has been no change in that for me."

He let out a short laugh. "You sure about that? Then how about telling me what all this stuff is about 'us', the history of 'us', how I'm family and you want to honor all of what we were about, are about? What about all that?" He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut.

She stomped her foot. "I can't believe you don't understand. Yes, we have a history, but it's the past. I thought we could be friends. But now I'm just not so sure." She stood for a moment, with her hands on her hips, breathing in and out slowly. "I thought I made it really clear, back five years ago, that I couldn't do that with you. I'm married, Deacon, and I'm committed to my marriage. You need to figure out how to get past this, move on with your life." She shook her head and then turned and walked towards the steps. When she got there, she turned around. "We have to be able to perform together at the CMA's, Deacon. You need to figure out how to do that without any other expectations." Then she stomped her way down the steps and out the door.

He stood there, breathing in and out, fighting the urge to break something. When he finally had regained control, he closed his guitar case and picked it up, heading out of the building to his truck. When he got home, he packed a duffel bag and headed for the cabin.