She waited for him to say something, then realized she'd probably caught him off guard. "Can I come in?" she asked.

He looked around, then back at her and nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said, and stood back so she could come in.

She walked in and looked around. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Nothing had changed. Everything was still as it had been that last time she'd walked out of this house. She knew Deacon didn't like to change things, but she was still surprised to see how little it had. Her eyes darted around quickly. The fireplace. How many times had they made love in front of that? The guitars, displayed around the room, the better to grab one up when the writing muse struck. The door to the bedroom, where songs were written and where they….

She swallowed hard and made herself turn back to face him. He was looking down at the statuette he held in his hands. "I wish you'd been there," she said softly.

He looked up, his eyes filled with pain. "I'm sorry," he said.

She shook her head. "Don't," she said. She took a deep breath. "Look, I wish what happened the other day didn't happen. Any of it, quite honestly. But I think we can get past it." She looked around. "Can we sit down?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," he said, gesturing towards the couch. "Please, sit." He waited for her to sit at one end and he sat at the other and, after setting the award on the coffee table, turned towards her. "I shoulda been there, Rayna. I know I disappointed you."

She waved her hand. "It's past. Watty came and performed with me, so it was fine." She smiled at him sadly. "I just wish you'd been there to hear your name called, to walk up on stage with me, and enjoy that moment." She felt such pain in her heart, watching him.

He looked anguished in that moment. "Yeah. Me too." He looked away from her and breathed in, then out. "I know I screwed up…."

"It wasn't all you, Deacon," she interrupted. He looked at her, puzzled. "Some of what you said was true. We had gotten closer and I think the lines got blurred a little. For both of us." She sighed. "You've always been important to me. You still are important to me. And I think you always will be. You were the one who rescued me when Daddy threw me out of the house. You were the one who always believed in me and supported me through all this. I could never have done this without you, Deacon. I would never be half the artist I am without you."

He shook his head. "That ain't true, Ray…."

"Of course it's true," she said, a little more sharply than she'd meant to. She twisted her hands in her lap. "You know me better than anyone," she went on, softening her voice. "You know things about me that no one else does. And I will never forget what we shared for all those years. There were some really amazing moments and some great love. But we both know it was so hard, for both of us, and I needed stability. I know you're sober now and I'm so proud of you. So proud of you. I do wish you'd been able to do this all those years ago. But I'm so glad you're doing it now."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped, his head down. "You weren't wrong, that day. I was wrong. I thought…."

"You know, I think it's all been a little complicated for both of us, these last few years." She started twisting her hands again. "And I think there are seasons in our lives and that season that was us, well, it's over. I don't want to screw this up though. We can still perform together – and I want that – but that's all it can be." She hesitated. "I don't think we can write together anymore. I think that's so, I don't know, intimate, or something. And it confuses things." She took a deep breath. "I don't want to confuse you, Deacon, and I heard what you said. I have this family now, with Teddy and my girls, and that's what I want. It's what I need. But I want you as a friend and as someone I can still count on, professionally. I just hope we can do that."

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with incredible sadness. "I want to. I do."

She smiled encouragingly. "Well, we've got some time. We don't start rehearsals again until February. I think being apart for a while might help. You know, doing other things."

He nodded. "I been writing. And I got a thing at the Bluebird, every third Thursday."

She bit her lip. The Bluebird had such special memories for her. Especially the times she performed there with Deacon. Then she smiled at him. "I'm glad you're doing that, Deacon. I know you'll bring in the crowds." She paused. "You know, you really should do some demos. Get your music out there."

He frowned a little and shook his head. "I ain't doing that. I'm a behind the scenes guy."

She knew he'd lost a lot of confidence in himself after his failed album and she also knew he'd be disinclined to put himself out there again that way. But she thought his music deserved an audience. "What about other people then? I bet there are other artists who'd be interested."

He shook his head again. "Nah. It's just for me."

She shrugged. "Well, think about it." She rubbed her hands on her jeans and then stood up. He stood up as well. "I've gotta go. I need to pick up Maddie." He didn't say anything and she started for the door.

"Thanks for bringing…that by," he said from behind her.

She turned back. "You know, when I accepted that, I said the biggest reason the song was successful was because of you. I meant that." He looked like he might cry then and he looked away, his hands in his pockets. She stepped towards him and put her hand on his arm. He turned to look at her and she could see the pain in his eyes. "Thank you for that song, Deacon." He nodded and stepped back. She looked at him a moment longer, then turned and let herself out.

~nashville~

When Erika had offered him the opportunity for the every third Thursday spotlight, he'd initially hesitated. Although he loved playing the Bluebird, so many of his memories were tied up in playing there with Rayna. It had been three years after he'd finished his last stint in rehab before he'd ventured back to this hallowed place. There were plenty of listening rooms and small performing venues around Nashville and he'd been content with those.

The Bluebird was the place he'd aspired to, in the very beginning, when he'd first come to Nashville. He'd stood in line for open mics, only to miss out. He'd auditioned for songwriter nights, only to not be selected. He'd nearly given up until the dark and stormy night that had chased away most of the open mic hopefuls and he'd finally gotten his chance. There weren't a whole lot of audience members that night either, as Nashville hunkered down under the threat of severe weather. He'd gotten the opportunity to play four of his songs, instead of the usual two, and he'd actually been grateful for the small audience, as it helped to ease his jitters. The reception had been warm and encouraging and he'd felt a surge of hopefulness when he stepped down from the stage.

He was sitting at one of tables near the back, nursing a Coke instead of the whiskey he would have preferred but was too young to purchase, when a salt-and-pepper haired man with a beard and moustache sat down in the chair next to him. He'd glanced over at the man, who didn't say anything at first, wondering why he'd sat there when there were so many empty tables around the place. He looked back at the performer on stage then and listened until his set was over. There was a brief intermission then, and that's when the man turned to him, his hand outstretched.

"Deacon, is it?" he asked. Deacon took his hand and nodded. "Deacon, I'm Watty White. I really liked what you did up there."

He sat up straight, his heart in his throat. Watty White was one of the elite producers in Nashville and also well-known as having a keen eye for talent. He'd been an A&R man at Arista Nashville for a while, but was now an independent. The word around town was that if you caught Watty's eye, you were destined for greatness. He hadn't noticed Watty when he was on stage, which probably was a good thing. He swallowed hard. "Thank you, Mr. White," he said.

Watty gave him a tight smile. "You're quite the guitar player, Deacon. Exceptional, in fact. How old are you?"

"Eighteen, sir."

Watty waved his hand. "Please. None of this 'sir' business. Anyway, I also liked your songs. I'm especially impressed considering how young you are. I'd have thought you were older than eighteen, based on the depth I heard there. I think you can polish them up a bit, but you have the ability to be a really great songwriter."

He'd frowned then. He hadn't come to Nashville just to be a songwriter. "Thanks, but I…."

"I know," Watty interrupted him. "You want to be an artist. Everyone who comes here wants to be an artist. But that takes time and a lot of hard work. It won't happen overnight. And, truthfully, for most, it won't ever happen. But your songwriting could be the ticket." He breathed out. "I'll be honest with you, though, Deacon, I don't think your voice is particularly strong. It's perfectly good for a songwriter, don't get me wrong, and I think you could do backing vocals, but I'm not sure I see you as a front man."

He sat back in his chair and fumed a little. "Well, with all due respect, Mr. White, I ain't here to just be a back-up singer." He got up and, picking up his guitar case, had left in a huff.

He smiled at the memory. Luckily, Watty didn't give up on him. And of course there was the night nearly a year later, when he'd introduced him to Rayna.

The Bluebird had been a safe place for them, when they were starting out. Some of his best memories as a performer were at the Bluebird, with Rayna. He thought it was probably true for her as well. It became the place, more than any other, that had seemed to become "their" place. And so for a long time he couldn't even cross the threshold, much less see himself on that stage, especially without her. But he needed to play and it really was the best place in town for that. He did spotlights and writer's rounds periodically, nothing regular, and he turned down as many as he accepted. But when Erika proposed the idea of a regular spotlight, he'd agreed.

As the night came to a close, he ended it with a song he'd written a couple days after Rayna had stopped by to bring him the CMA award. It didn't occur to him until she'd left that it was the first time she'd been in his house since she'd moved out, all those years ago. He'd felt bad, leaving her in the lurch at the CMA's, but he'd let himself get too close, let himself give life to his hope. He had needed to create a break, for himself, if not for her. He wasn't sure he could totally get past his feelings for her, but he couldn't live his life that way anymore.

She wanted to be friends. That had felt impossible, in the beginning, still felt like it would be hard work. But he owed her a lot and he wanted to figure out a way to do this. He knew she'd likely never hear the song, but it made him feel good to write it.

Say goodbye to all your pain and sorrow / Say goodbye to all those lonely nights / Say goodbye to all your blue tomorrows / Now you're standing in the light

I know sometimes you feel so helpless / Sometimes you feel like you can't win / Sometimes you feel so isolated / You'll never have to feel that way again

You are not alone / You're not alone

I never thought I'd find the road to freedom / Never thought I'd see you smile again / Never thought I'd have the chance to tell you / That I will always be your friend

You are not alone / You're not alone

As he took in the applause, he was glad he'd agreed to do this. It felt good to pour all his pain and heartache out in his music, felt cathartic somehow. He had begun to realize he'd kept it all bottled up inside, the struggle he'd been having reconciling his feelings with his reality. He could write from all the perspectives he was feeling – the anger, the hurt, the yearning, the confusion. But as he wrote, he started to find a way to deal with it all.

After everyone had left, he put away his guitar and shoved his music into his messenger bag. The musicians he used to back him up had all packed up and left and he was the only one left except for the bar back and Erika. She came and sat at the table where he was finishing up.

"So, how does it feel? Being back?" she asked, giving him a warm smile.

He smiled back. "Good. It feels good. Thanks for asking me."

"We have some of our best crowds on the nights you're here, Deacon. So it's good for business too." She grinned. "Our customers like you. Our regulars like you. And we're glad you're back home." She stood up. "I'll let you get going. I know it's late." She turned to walk back to her office, then stopped and looked back at him. "Congratulations on your CMA, by the way. We're proud of you here."

Every time he thought about the CMA's or someone mentioned it to him, he always felt unsettled. He wished he had been there, but it was water under the bridge. He gave her a tight smile. "Thanks," he said. Then he got up and gathered his things and headed out the door.

~nashville~

Rayna was standing at the kitchen island, making a salad, when Teddy came home. She looked up and smiled at him as he walked over to her. He put a hand on the counter next to hers and the other lightly touching her back, leaning in to kiss her. He smiled. "How was your day?" he asked.

She shrugged. "The usual. I took Maddie and Daphne to the mall to see Santa. We met Tandy there and it was ridiculously crowded. Maddie had a little diva meltdown because the line wasn't moving fast enough for her. Daphne had to join in, so by the time we got to poor Santa, I had two cranky, crying little girls, which made for terrible pictures." She sighed. "I suggested coming back, but that made Maddie really go off the deep end, so we powered through. We were going to make cookies, but I wasn't going to spend time doing that with a misbehaving five year old. So now both of them are down for naps before dinner." She put down her knife and forced a smile to her face. "I'm sure your day was much better than mine."

He chuckled. "I don't know about that. I was in meetings with cranky bankers all day." He put his arms around her waist and turned her towards him. "I have a surprise for you though. And it sounds like something you need right about now."

She was intrigued. "Tell me," she said, with a sly smile.

"I made us a reservation at the Sandestin Resort for five days. We leave the day after Christmas. They have a kids program and babysitting for Daphne. And I booked a spa day for you so you can relax."

She gasped. "Oh, babe," she said, then put her hands on his face and drew him in for a kiss. "What a wonderful surprise. That's just perfect." She smiled and kissed him again. "Thank you. You always know just how to spoil me."

He smiled happily. "It's not easy finding the perfect surprise for the great Rayna Jaymes. I'm glad you're happy about it."

She ran her hands over his chest. "Oh, babe, don't be silly. My life on the road is not a bed of roses. This is going to just be heaven." She leaned in and kissed him again. "I'm going to let you know tonight just how appreciated you are," she whispered.

~nashville~

Two weeks before Christmas, Deacon got a call from an old friend. "Steve! What's up?" he asked.

"Hey, man, listen, I broke my wrist and am out of commission for about six weeks. The band is starting a southwest tour and I know Rayna is on hiatus til spring. You interested in filling in for me?" Steve's band, Sixwire, had started out around the time Rayna had and they'd ended up playing a lot of the same places in the early days. Their music was higher energy than Rayna's, with more of a country-rock feel, but they'd all become good friends over the years.

Deacon thought about it. Rayna's rehearsals weren't starting up until late February, so the timing was good. "Sure," he said. "Starting when?"

Steve chuckled. "Day after tomorrow?" he said.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Sorry, man, but we start in Houston day after tomorrow. Look, if that's not enough time…."

Deacon shook his head. "Nah, I can do it."

"Okay, so if you can fly down to Hobby, we'll pick you up. Just let me know when you get in."

"I'll do it. So, still the same group?" He'd lost track of the band in the last few years. Sixwire had never made it out of the state fair/local venue circuit and so they weren't in the same touring circles any longer.

"We changed female leads a couple years ago."

He raised his eyebrows. "No more Kelsey, huh?" He smiled. Kelsey Manning had been the female lead for the band since the beginning. He remembered her as a pretty girl with a sweet country voice. She and Andy had been a formidable singing duo, so he wondered what happened.

"Yeah, she got married, the bitch," he said, then laughed good-naturedly. "She told us it was her last opportunity to have a regular life, so she wanted off the road. Can't say I blame her."

"So who replaced her?"

"Girl named Annabelle Henley. Really has major pipes and sex appeal all over the damn place. She's really amped up the crowds, that's for sure."

Deacon chuckled. "Well, that should be interesting. Look forward to meeting her."

"Okay, man, well, let me know when you get in and we'll see ya in a couple days."

Almost before he knew it, Deacon was on a plane to Houston. The minute the plane lifted off the runway in Nashville, he'd felt something change inside. It was as though the heavy weight he'd been living under the past five years had lifted off him. He found himself looking forward to this change of pace. It had been a long time since he and Rayna had played in honky tonks and dive bars and small dance halls. He was feeling reenergized already.

Steve looked past Deacon and waved his arm. "Annabelle, come meet Deacon," he called out.

Deacon turned around and felt his heart start pounding. He took in her dark brown hair that trailed down over her shoulders. She wore a flannel shirt and jeans that hugged her curves. As she got closer he noticed her creamy skin and her mesmerizing green eyes. He swallowed hard as she walked up, a pretty smile on her face. She put her hand out. "Hey, Deacon. I've heard a lot about you," she said. Her voice was like honey and she lightly bit her lip as she gazed into his eyes.

He jumped up and reached out, taking her hand. Her skin was soft, her touch electric. "Nice to meet you. I heard a lot about you too," he said. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Well, thanks for agreeing to fill in for Steve on such short notice. I know we're not as big a deal as Rayna Jaymes' band, but we do like to have fun." She looked around at the rest of the guys. "Y'all ready for sound check?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked away from them towards the stage.

Deacon watched her and felt rooted to the floor. Damn.

When he woke up, it was still dark and he was a little disoriented. He lay still while he remembered where he was. He felt her fingers trail across his hip and start down his outer thigh. He breathed in sharply and she chuckled, a deep, sexy sound. She moved closer, molding herself to his back and slid her hand down lower. He groaned as her fingers stroked him with a feathery touch.

He turned over to face her, running his hand up her back. She laughed softly and teased his lips with her own. He groaned again and rolled her onto her back. She let out a little squeal and then moaned deep in her throat as he slid inside her. She raised her hips towards him and wrapped her hands around his neck. He leaned down to kiss her. "I think I'm going to like having you on this tour," she murmured against his lips.

He smiled. "I think I am too." Then he captured her lips with his and she wrapped her legs around his.

~nashville~

Rayna reclined on a lounge chair on the balcony of their suite. She had her sunglasses on to keep the sun out of her eyes and she sipped periodically on the margarita sitting beside her. Teddy had taken the girls down to the pool so she could have some alone time. She smiled to herself. He'd made sure she had plenty of time to relax. She'd spent the day before at the resort spa, getting a massage and a facial, as well as a manicure and pedicure. She actually was missing her daughters.

It really had been a lovely getaway. Just what she'd needed. She closed her eyes, thinking about how Teddy had spent the last couple months trying to be the perfect husband. She knew everything that had happened with Deacon, around the song, had worried him. She knew he was afraid that one day she would leave him. She knew he felt like her second choice and, truthfully, he had been.

She felt a tear roll down her cheek and she reached up to wipe it away. Teddy was such a kind, gentle man. He was a loving husband and a wonderful father. Especially to Maddie, who wasn't even his daughter by blood. She knew he'd taken this on by choice, and she would never not be grateful for that. She wished she could love him the way he deserved to be loved. She did love him, but more in the way you would love someone who'd made a great sacrifice. Who'd been a hero, of sorts.

She had promised herself she'd work harder at the marriage, when she'd realized the dangerous spot she and Deacon were in, that she would recommit herself to those vows. This was what she wanted. This stable, normal life, where she could be a wife and mother, without the drama and the uncertainty that life with Deacon would surely have brought. Her own childhood had been filled with enough uncertainty and she and Tandy had paid the price for that in many ways.

She thought about her parents' fights, the pain they caused each other because her father wanted her mother to be someone she was not. Tandy had tried to protect her from as much of it as she could, but then it had all blown up when Virginia had been killed in that car crash. She didn't want that for her daughters. She wanted them to have a happy, normal life with friends and birthday parties and sleepovers. Her own life was hectic enough, with touring and recording and all the things that went along with being a successful artist, so it was comforting to know she could give her girls a father who would be there every night, to tuck them in, to read them stories. A father they could depend on, who would not disappoint them.

She hadn't seen Deacon since the day she'd taken him the CMA award. Hadn't even talked to him. It felt like the best thing to do. She hoped that separating herself from him would help her get some perspective. She hadn't even talked about him since a couple days after she'd seen him, when she had lunch with Watty.

"So that was a nice speech you gave at the CMA's," he said. He took a sip of his bourbon.

She smiled at him. "I don't even know where it came from," she said, with a laugh. "I had something else planned, where I was going to thank God and everybody. Including you."

Watty smiled and shook his head. "I didn't have anything to do with that," he said.

She looked at him with surprise. "Are you kidding? You had everything to do with that. You were the one who introduced us all those years ago."

He looked at her carefully and a sadness seemed to cross his face. "I wonder sometimes if I did you any favors by doing that," he said.

She frowned. "I don't understand. You told me I needed a guitar player, that I needed someone to help me 'grow up my lyrics', I think was the way you put it."

He shrugged. "But look at the heartache you went through, Rayna," he said gently. "Look at the pain he put you through."

"He didn't do that on purpose, Watty. You know that."

"He dragged you down with him, Rayna, into his own private hell. He could so easily have destroyed you."

She scowled. "I don't understand this. I thought you liked Deacon, that you respected his talent."

Watty raised his eyebrows and nodded. "I do. But if I'd known what a mess he was, I might have kept him away from you."

She opened her mouth to respond, then stopped, biting her lip. She felt tears in her eyes. She breathed out. "I loved him, Watty," she said quietly. "He was my whole life for a very long time. And when he was well, he was amazing. He was sick and he struggled. He always wanted to do right, but he had a lot of pain in his life, you know that."

He nodded. "I do know that."

"He's in a good place now." She felt wistful. She twisted her hands in her lap. "I wish he could have done this before."

Watty reached out and put his hand over hers. "I don't think he could have done this then."

She wiped at her tears with the heel of her hand, her face screwed up. "That's what Cole said." Her voice was shaky now with her tears and her emotion. "You just don't know how much it hurts to know that," she whispered.

It did hurt. It still hurt to know she couldn't protect him or save him. It seemed the only thing she could do was let him go. Except that he was so entangled in the fabric of who she was that she wasn't sure she could actually do that.

~nashville~

He was sitting at a table in the club where they were playing, a week before Christmas. He was reworking one of the verses on a song he'd started before he left Nashville.

"Hey there."

He looked up to see Annabelle. "Hey yourself," he said with a smile.

She sat opposite him and leaned over a little to see what he was doing. "You look all wrapped up in something," she said, with a smile.

He put down his pencil. "Just working on a song." It had been two days since that first night in Houston, when she'd pulled him into her room at the motel on the highway. They'd traveled overnight on the bus up to Lubbock. She hadn't approached him since the first night and he hadn't been sure what to make of that. Or exactly how he felt about it. He had enjoyed the sex and enjoyed her company, but it wasn't like this could last.

She sat back in the chair. "I'm glad Steve called you," she said. "You're really amazing on the guitar."

He gave her a small smile. "Thanks."

She grinned broadly. "Don't tell him I said so, but you're way better than he is."

He laughed. "I doubt that."

"No, it's true." She sat forward then and reached for his hand across the table. "I'd really like to invite you back to my space on the bus, but I'm afraid the rest of the guys would give you the business." He raised his eyebrows, but didn't respond. "I know you're just with us for a few weeks, but I'm looking forward to having a lot more fun with you."

He took a deep breath. "I need to tell you…."

She shook her head. "I know. You belong to Rayna Jaymes."

He frowned. "I never belonged to nobody." He breathed out. "And we ain't been together in over five years." He pushed up from the table and, grabbing his notebook, he stormed out.

"Hey, that's not what I meant!"

He heard her call after him, but he didn't stop. He ran up the bus steps and flung himself onto his bunk. He laid on his back, breathing in and out to calm himself, clenching his fists. He was still fuming when she crawled over him into the bunk. He scowled. "What the hell are you doing?" he said, angrily.

She frowned back. "You sure do have a hot temper, don't you?" She laid on her side, her head propped up on her fist. He rolled out of the bunk. "Maybe you should listen instead of being so damn touchy."

He looked back at her. "I ain't touchy."

She smiled at him. "Yes, you are." She reached out for his hand, but he snatched it away. She rolled her eyes. "What I meant, if you'd stayed around to listen, is that I know you're only temporary. In our band as well as in my life. That you belong in another band."

He was still frowning. He wasn't at all sure that was what she meant. "I don't belong to anyone or any band. I choose to be in Rayna's band." He huffed. "Maybe you should have let me finish."

She nodded. "Okay, that's fair. What were you going to say?" She smiled just a little, her mesmerizing eyes drawing him in.

He breathed in and looked warily at her. "I was gonna say I wanted to keep things casual." He really wanted to walk away from her, felt like he should walk away from her, but he felt this undeniable pull towards her. The same pull he'd felt when he'd seen her walk up to the band the day he met her. She intrigued him in a way no one had since, well, since Rayna Jaymes.

She moved to the edge of the bunk and ran her fingers over his chest. This time he didn't stop her. "I'm sorry I cut you off. I'm glad we see things the same way though." She slid off of the bunk and looked up at him. "I'd like to introduce you to my private space," she purred, as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the back of the bus.

A/N: I've commandeered the group Sixwire for my story. They play Rayna's band on the TV show and also back up Chip when he tours. I added a female singer just for the relationship interest.

The song Deacon sang at the Bluebird was "You Are Not Alone" by the Eagles. #RIPGlennFrey