So here's the end! This is not nearly as dialogue driven as the first piece. Thanks for all of the kind reviews! Enjoy. :)
"…what kind of person are you?"
She shuddered as he continued to inch closer. Little by little, the space between them dissipated. She could almost feel the heat his body was throwing, though this was a very different heat than they'd thrown each other in the past.
She feared this closeness.
She knew he would never physically hurt her, but the closer he stood while demanding an answer meant she had no room to run. After all, running was what she was used to doing. She'd been running from this for fourteen years, but she couldn't anymore. He didn't leave her adequate space this time, in any capacity.
"Deacon," she whispered; her lip quivering as she struggled to breathe. "Please."
He stopped just barely close enough to touch her. She closed her eyes at the sight of his hands visibly shaking. She couldn't bring herself to look at his face; the anguish she knew was there would absolutely crush her and the faint glimmer of resolve she had left.
"I asked you a question, Rayna."
She couldn't fight it anymore, as badly as she wanted to.
She raised her eyes to his, taking in everything. For all the times he'd completely broken her, she'd finally broken him. His eyes were red and a few stray tears still found their way down his face. His skin was flushed and she found nothing in the soul of his eyes. The burning rage from before was gone, but so was everything else. There was certainly no glimpse of understanding, nor was there sadness.
Her lip trembled more as she realized that for the first time in 26 years, there was no trace of love when he stared into her in that way that had always made her feel so completely exposed.
She turned away from him, collapsing atop the bar in near hysterics.
She hated herself.
She knew what she'd done the whole time. She was too proud to admit it to herself, so she pushed it aside. She used everyone else's terrible advice and convinced herself that he was a monster. Every time in Maddie's young life she felt a pang of sorrow because he wasn't around for the occasion, she reminded herself that he simply wasn't built for it.
He was a drunk.
He was a violent, self-fulfilling prophecy and she had to protect her child; she had to protect herself.
He didn't deserve to be there when she fell off the see-saw on the churchyard at three and needed four stitches in her chubby knee.
He didn't deserve to be there the day she performed her first piano recital.
He didn't deserve to come to the meeting with her first grade teacher where they learned she had scored in the 98th percentile for reading on the state exam.
He didn't deserve any of it because he'd thrown everything else away.
Perhaps she'd even kept it from him to not only spare Maddie of his bullshit, but to get back at him for all the times she had to sit in an ER waiting room. Perhaps she wanted him to suffer for the time she had to walk in and see him on a ventilator, or for the time that she literally had to drag him out of the seediest motel in Nashville on his back while she screamed for someone to help her bony 125 pounds carry all of his dead weight.
She could justify her decision for years upon years to come, she thought.
He could tell her he hated her all he wanted; he could scream at her, or wail until he suffocated… he could fall on his knees in front of her and beg her for an answer but none of it would change that's what done is done and what she did was right.
Except… it wasn't.
She wept harder, just knowing… knowing that fourteen years of epic secrets, lies, justifications, excuses, and every other piece of bullshit that had clouded her world were finally, finally coming back around to her; knowing that she could outrun it no more.
He was absolutely right.
What she'd done—keeping him close all those years, holding onto the ring he gave her, telling him she loved him, making love to him like every time was the last time—it was sickening.
She was sickening.
All of his transgressions, his demons, his fits, and his falls… none of it changed that she had carried his daughter, given birth to her, and elaborately schemed to keep him away, no matter how well he went on to be.
She knew he had wanted a family with her and more than anything she wanted the same with him, but she was simply too afraid. She feared her own fear to point of no return, so that's where she'd gone. She married Teddy, locked the paternity test away, and never looked back until that very moment.
She lifted her head, slowing turning to face him as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
She didn't care that he used the word "hate" for the first time in nearly three decades, nor did she care that his eyes were no longer aglow for her, at least for that moment. All she cared about was him standing two inches away from her.
So she grabbed him. She pulled him close and clung to him for dear life, crying into the nape of his neck.
She felt his arms go reluctantly around her back and she almost went limp. She opened her eyes and glanced around the room, noticing the sun had started to go down. There was just barely enough light for her to make out a new piece of décor: a simple sign over the door that read only, "eternity."
Eternity.
Was this their eternity? A never ending life of grief and indignation? Or was it the two of them entangled in each other's bodies, always seeking the next moment because one simply can't live without the other? Were they destined to be the worst of each other, or the best of each other?
She was so vulnerable in that moment; she felt stripped to her naked core. She couldn't say everything she wanted to say quite yet, but she could say the most important thing he needed to hear.
She raised her head slowly, placing her lips against his ear.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."