Hey All! First so sorry this has taken me so long to update. It is bar far the longest chapter I think I've ever written and right before I got ready to review it I called called out of town. ICK. But I'm back and hope to keep the updates coming swiftly! Thank you all again for your wonderful comments! I truly appreciate each and every one of them!

CHAPTER 14

Ninety Six

Deacon hates clam chowder.

Absolutely hates it. To begin with, Deacon has never been a fan of seafood or soup but normally he eats whatever it is that is put in front of him. Except for clam chowder. Deacon once told me that clam chowder taste like hot slime with slugs in it. So when Harvey Graham, Boston's most pretentious radio host offered dinner to the Juliette, both of our bands, and the crew of the show, Deacon opted out with some lame ass excuse about being tired.

So when literally every person got sick from ill-prepared seafood, Deacon offered to pick me up from the airport. Of course he could have just sent the limo like the original plan had been, but for whatever reason he'd jumped into a cab and came to Logan International himself.

He is standing there beside the luggage claim in a black shirt and jeans. He smiles and takes my carry-on bag. I half expect a hug but he doesn't lean forward, so neither do I.

The cab ride over to the hotel is long, but I want it to last longer. He asks about Daddy and I give him the update: out of ICU, another week or son in the hospital, then rehab and taking it easy for a few months. He makes a joke about Lamar's version of taking it easy. Then he asks how I'm handling the news about Watty and my mom. We aren't even out of the airport traffic yet.

I sigh and lean back against the seat. I verbalize what I have kept to myself until now: I'm confused and doubting every memory I have of both Mama and Watty. I tell him that I keep thinking about my Mama and can't help but doubt whether she is anything like the woman I remember her to be. I stare out into the city lights as we slowly make our way through a group of stoplights.

Deacon simply offers that finding out our parents aren't perfect is the first step in becoming an adult, then he puts his hand on my knee. I turn slowly to face him. He gives me a sympathetic smile and I turn my body towards him, curling one leg under my body and leaving the other with his hand upon it.

Then I admit that Watty's relationship with my mom actually bothers me more. Part of me is sure the only reason Watty helped me at all was because of some affair she had with him. I say my whole career feels like some kind of lie or like I skipped twenty steps to get to the top. I speculate out loud that perhaps my entire career was one big lie, built on my mother's infidelity and Watty's affections for her.

Deacon shrugs and reminds me that the Grammys and the CMAs and the millions of records sold prove I deserve to be on top. He reminds me of the bars and the tours and all the times I refuse to give up. He agrees that Watty helped, but so did the startup that Edgehill was, so did the deejay in Texas that played our first song eight times because he just liked the song. His body shifts too and now its facing mine as his head rest close to mine on the back seat. He names the club owners that asked us to come back and play again and then quotes reviews that our first album got.

He can tell that makes me feel better. I say a quiet "thank you" to him and he answers back a nearly silent "you're welcome Ray."

Then he changes the subject to ask if I was hungry. Truth was, I had eaten right before I got on the plane. But I accept his invitation to dinner anyways.

We end up at the hotel restaurant splitting a huge plate of nachos with meat and olives on it. He recounts the latest fights he'd had with Juliette's sober-companion turned manager. The whole thing is absolutely absurd and I tell him so. I reassure him that he's in the right. Juliette is indeed as immature and foolish as I thought she was. He just shrugs and then asks how I feel about a dessert.

We split a cream pie and by split I mean I had two small bites and he has the rest. We laugh at the man sitting at the bar who strikes out with every single woman he's hit on. He makes a joke about the scarf I'm wearing and I kick him under the table. We stay long after the waitress takes our last plate away.

Ninety Seven

Deacon Claybourne came to the after party.

He hasn't been to one in a couple of years. Hates them. Deacon hates the niceties and idol chit-chat with industry big wigs and local insiders. Back when he and Rayna were starting out it was necessary and he understood that. But even back then, it was clear it was not Deacon's thing. He would stick around the party to ensure no guy was hitting on Rayna and then try and shuffle her out of the room as fast as possible.

But tonight he sat on the couch and talked to me for a good twenty minutes. Deacon's eyes followed her around the room for the better part of an hour until he saw an opening. Then like a moth to a flame, he was by her side. I vaguely wonder if the girl he brought to New York was some passing phase. Or perhaps she's like Teddy Conrad and willing to turn a blind eye to things she doesn't want to see?

So there they were, Rayna and Deacon, in the corner near the kitchen laughing about some secret they were sharing. Then they left together, his elbow bent and her arm looped through his.

I took a few steps into the lobby area to follow them, wondering if perhaps they were going to head to the elevators together. But instead they headed to the glass doors of the front of the hotel. Together. In public.

Its dark outside and the publicity of Rayna's divorce has died down. Besides, if the journalist wanted pictures of Rayna and Deacon holding hands or linked arm and arm they would have had dozens of other opportunities over the years. Still, it worries me for a lot of different reasons.

And as Rayna's manager, I'm not sure which is scarier: Deacon and Rayna in public or Deacon and Rayna in private.

Ninety Eight

I have a bruise on my ass.

And it's all Ray's fault. This morning in the mirror, I saw the ugly green and yellow mark with a nasty purple color in the middle. I got it last night, while we were walking through downtown Milwaukee.

Years ago, we found this little coffee shop that served everything with maple syrup: ice cream, muffins, oatmeal, cookies. I had forgotten all about it but Ray had remembered it and mentioned that she was craving something "syrupy."

So we decided to go looking for the shop. After her regular meet and greet we ventured out into the cold streets of Wisconsin. Ray swore she remembered where the place was but in forty degree weather, in the dark, she kept leading us further and further away from our hotel with no maple syrup coffee shop.

We ended up ditching the maple syrup-coffee shop idea and settled for a McDonalds with hot coffee and salty French fries. Then on the way back she spotted a fountain in the island of a four way traffic circle. It was lit up in a bright white glow and the fountain itself shot and sprayed water. Rayna called the fountain sprays cute. I called it a way to make sure the water didn't sit long enough to freeze.

First she stole the only quarter I had left in my pocket to throw it into the water and make a wish. Then she wasted her wish on hoping to find that damn muffin place and I made fun of her.

So then she pushed me backwards playfully and I lost my footing on some water that has splashed out of the granite.

While I didn't fall into the water, I did sit down hard on the granite side. I warned her she was going to pay for that but then I lost my footing again when I tried to get up. About five seconds later, I was ass-side into the fountain, while my feet were high above me on the edge of the granite. The water was only about six inches deep but the water felt like it was about negative four thousand degrees.

First Rayna asked if I was okay and grabbed my hand to help me out. Then the second I pulled myself out of the water, she burst out laughing. I told her it wasn't funny, hell for about two minutes I thought I would impotent for the rest of my life. She bit her lip and tried to muffle her laughter but soon the cold night air was bursting with her squeals of laughter. Despite my legs tingling and my entire body shivering I couldn't help but enjoy the sound. It was a sound of Rayna Jaymes having actual fun.

Every person that we passed on the sidewalk stared at me. I know I had to look stupid, I walked with my legs spread apart. My entire body was shaking between the water that soaked my legs and the cold night air. Then there were the water stains caused my crotch and ass to look a lot darker than the rest of my legs.

Several times I caught Rayna trying to stop laughing with her gloved hand. Finally when I caught my own reflection waddling like a duck down the sidewalk, I burst out laughing too.

I made it back to the hotel with a lot of embarrassment and a little bit of chaffing. When we got into the elevator together we both broke out laughing again as the golden inside of the elevator reflected my water-logged ass again.

But when the elevator got off on my floor, Ray blushed and admitted she was working on a song. She asked if I'd been willing to listen and give my opinion. I nodded in response. Ray intentionally kept the elevator door opened as I waddled down the hall. I was already peeling off my jeans by the time I rounded the corner to my room. Then I heard her bark of laughter again right before the ding of the elevator doors.

But despite my sore, wet ass…I had fun last night. A lot of fun.

I look at my watch and realize I'm going to be late if I don't get my bruised ass down to meet Ray.

Ninety Nine

We wrote together.

After Deacon heard my song and helped me with my second verse, we started playing around with something different. We managed to write a damn good chorus and had some good starting points for verses. Then we got interrupted by Juliette's personal whatever-she-is.

She said Juliette needed Deacon immediately. That was probably a lie but it sounded desperate enough at the time. As I watched Deacon walk away, I realized how weird it felt. Deacon was someone else's guitar player. He was on someone else's watch. He had priorities that weren't me now.

He belonged to other people now: Juliette or Stacy or the dog. That thought made my head hurt and throat close a little tighter.

One Hundred

Juliette was late again.

I didn't mind though. The girls are with Teddy this week. Daddy's still in the hospital. Tandy is at the office trying her best to make Daddy proud.

I would have rather sit on the plane with Deacon and Bucky then be at Tandy's apartment alone staring at the walls. Then I looked over to see Deacon was less amused. His face scrunched in a mixture of frustration and annoyance.

I told him I don't know why he was surprised. Juliette had been late to every plane ride, bus ride, and sound check since I rejoined the tour. I've loved every time she was late.

First, I like being right. I like being right a lot. And Juliette's tardiness, lack of discipline, and flat out disregard for the hundred or so people that are working with her is something I called from day one. It is truly one step forward, a dozen backwards with her.

He'd been annoyed all week. So in between shortened sound checks and the start of the concerts, Deacon hung out in my dressing rooms. When I was on stage, he was laying on my couch watching the live feed. When the show was over, he'd hung out at the lounge area just long enough to let me do my rounds. Then we'd be off, somewhere. Sometimes we'd go out for really late dinner. Some nights, we headed to whatever Presidential Suite or Penthouse I was in and write.

During discussions of key changes, Deacon confided in me that he hadn't written at all recently except for our sessions. He didn't mention Stacey's name but I know she's at least part of the reason. She doesn't like music, or country music, or my music…or something. I'm not so sure exactly. And I confided in Deacon that I've been writing more than I have in years.

So as we waited for our other passengers, Deacon got less agitated as I suggested we show Buck the song we were working on.

One Hundred and One

Rayna went to second base with Liam.

Thank God! I was worried for a little while after Daddy got sick. The nurse's station had been abuzz with Deacon's overnight stay with Rayna but nothing came of it. Nothing will come of it. He's got that cute little girlfriend. She's got Liam.

Liam is a good post-divorce relationship type. He's sexy, a musician. Nothing too serious and nothing too complicated. And besides, anything is better than Deacon.

One Hundred and Two

I went grocery shopping with Stacey.

I haven't been grocery shopping in years with a girlfriend. It felt weird. She didn't know I liked Brawny paper towels cause there is a big woodsman on the front. She had no clue that I loved me some macaroni and cheese from the blue box. Instead she bought some fresh pasta stuff and red sauce. She didn't know what kind of orange juice I liked. She had no clue what kind of fruit I normally got.

It just felt off but she seemed to enjoy it so I went with it. I don't remember ever having the "learn what I like in grocery stores" conversation with Rayna. She just seemed to know what kind of toothpaste I liked or what I wanted on my chicken. Well truth be told, I probably only like the chicken I like because Rayna made it first. I eat the same macaroni and cheese that Ray use to crave while we were on the road.

And while we were unloading the groceries this afternoon, I told Stacey I'm getting off the road. It just feels right. Juliette went from a friend, to a co-writer, to a boss, to some start up diva that I don't recognize.

Besides, how else is Stacey suppose to know what I get from the grocery stores? Me being on the road and her being in Nashville isn't going to work and Coleman and Scarlett and even I realize how good she is for me.

One Hundred and Three

I keep thinking about Deacon's birthday party.

It's because Scarlett reminded me of my speech when she told me why Gunnar missed the audition. That night I really thought it was the start, well the re-start of 'us'. He was just going to wait a little longer and I was going to heal a little more... But now he's with Stacey and he seems to really care about her. And I'm getting caught making out Liam on recording studio couches. And now's he gotten me plane tickets to the Caribbean.

And that adds a whole other level of stuff to the pile. But the truth is I like Liam. And there always has been this thing between us. And he is a damn good kisser. And I haven't had sex in like a year. And there will be blue seas and black sand and drinks with umbrellas in them.

Deacon made his choice to be happy with someone else. So why shouldn't I make the same decision?

One Hundred and Four

He fucking growled.

In the middle of MY song. Ray hugged him in front of half of Nashville and there were damn cat calls from the audience. Her shoulder pressed against his. She looked him in the eye and gave him that smile. My smile. Then he threw the guitar just long enough to pull her against him.

I tried to keep my face in a blank stare. Stacey was right beside me. And there are other people sending me looks too: some of my band members, Bucky, and then that reporter from the newspaper. I couldn't watch it but I couldn't look away for more than a few seconds. Like a car wreck, can't look at it but can't stop yourself from slowing down and looking.

Car wrecks make people bleed and right now, I felt like I was bleeding. Suddenly I realized I had to get out of there.

And now I'm sitting backstage, listening to them singing over the loud speakers. She's singing songs he wrote with her. And memories of how we use to write songs blur into visions of the two of them. And I grab another water and drink it. I swirl the liquid around my tongue in an attempt to calm myself down. When it was whiskey, it would also soothe me but the bottled water isn't working.

For years, Teddy had her. He was her husband and her lover and all the other things I didn't like to think about it.

But he never had her on stage. He never even existed up there. It was just me and her and the audience. It was in our blood, music and each other.

And now its she and Liam on stage. It's she and somebody else. Then Stacey shows up and starts asking questions. I lie the best I can. At least at first. Until the hurt and the frustration get the better of me.

And then I admit I can't get Ray out of my blood. I've been bleeding for fourteen damn years and still she's there.

One Hundred and Five

I tell Liam I'll be about twenty minutes.

He says he'll stay in the car and make some last minute phone calls. We are catching the red eye so we have time.

And then before I realize it, I'm in my bedroom at Tandy's place, changing into a bright green dress that is perfect for the weather in St. Lucia. My suitcase is virtually packed: bathing suits, flowing skirts, sunglasses, beach towels, sexy lingerie. And I catch my expression in the mirror. I should look happier, more excited.

I push that thought out of my head and run a brush through my hair. I grab my makeup bag and my kindle for the plane ride. I flash back to Deacon's face beside that pillar and press my lips together together again. I shake my head and look in the mirror again as I reapply my earrings I'm wearing are big and gold. They would look great on the island but I take them out anyways. They aren't too heavy or bulky but they still don't feel right.

And suddenly I'm looking up at the ceiling and wondering why I encouraged Deacon to go back to Stacey or why I told him my plans with Liam. And I know why. I'm so use to pushing him away. I'm so use to not letting myself too close to him. I find myself reaching for the diamond earrings Deacon gave me for my 25th birthday and put them in.

Deacon is probably with Stacey right now. But then I close my eyes and see his face. Even if he is with her, even if he can never get past all the lost time...he needs to know that he was right. He needs to know that I love him. That for the last fourteen years, I loved him. That every time he held my hand or held my gaze, I felt it too. That as much as he wanted to be close to me, I wanted him close to me too.

I take off the dress I just put on and find another pair of jeans. I swear I'm an idiot.

He's trying to move on with his life. He has moved on with his life. And I'm trying to move on with my life too. He's got Stacey. I've got Liam. He's got Juliette's band and I've got this new album. Tandy, and Buck, and Watty, and Coleman and everybody else sees the good that has come from us separating ourselves.

Yep, I'm an idiot.

I find a shirt and grab my jacket. I pull a random scarf from drawer and twist it around my neck. Its the first day of May, still chilly in Nashville. Its going to be midnight by the time I get over to Deacon's place. I leave the suitcase on the beg and my carry on by the door. I wet my lips with my tongue.

Before I manage to make an idiot of myself in front of Deacon, I've got to do the same to Liam.

One Hundred and Six

Its 4:48.

AM. And I don't feel the least bit tired. I'm use to late nights. Hell, some weeks in the winter I never even see the sun. But there is no way in hell I'm falling asleep tonight. Fifteen minutes ago, Ray yawned, turned over, and pushed back against me. I wrapped my arm around her and kissed a slow path from her neck to her ear and back. I whispered that I loved her, something I'd already told her several times that night. She turned her body and gave me a quick kiss and whispered 'goodnight.'

She'd fallen asleep quickly, relaxing in my arms. I don't want to wake her up but I can't stop tasting her skin. I had forgotten so much. Despite the twelve years together, and all the memories and all the dreams. There was so much I forgot.

I forgot how beautiful her eyes looked when they were darkened with love and desire. I forgot the hitch her throat made when I touched her or the sound of her giggle when she was just happy and relaxed and half naked. My memory of how her hair felt against my stomach had dulled over the last fourteen years. And the taste of her smile against my lips was even more addictive then I let myself remember. Then she called me 'Babe.' I hadn't heard her call me that in so long that I damn near lost it when I heard that word tumble from her lips.

My fingers rub in the inside of her wrist and I listen to her slow breathing. I've missed this for fourteen years. I stare down at her and kiss her neck again, letting myself relax against her body. And I feel myself falling asleep in spite of my best intentions. But its been so damn long since I feel asleep beside of her, well at least since we were both naked, and I feel myself relaxing against her more.

Right before I drift off to sleep, Ray shifts in her sleep and I feel the sheet shift just a little bit. My last thought is that I can't wait to wake and up and tease Ray about stealing the covers.