NSFW disclaimer: This chapter gets a bit more explicit than the rest of this story has been so far, and is probably best skipped over by those who prefer to avoid such things. Also - thanks again to Shiny Jewel for her beta-reading and excellent gift suggestions for this chapter.
Chapter Sixteen
Last Christmas
"Sorry we don't have a Christmas tree or anythin' special up here," Deacon said, flipping on light switches as he opened the door of his small, rustic cabin and walked inside. A musty, closed-up smell met Rayna as she followed him in, carrying a bag of groceries. She put them down and slid the kitchen window open, letting the cold, fresh air inside. Deacon, loaded down with his own suitcase and two of hers, walked into the bedroom and dumped them on the bed.
"It's okay," Rayna called after him. "I'm just happy to be here with you, babe." The two of them had not visited his cabin together for nearly 18 months, and their last visit had not gone well. They'd been eating barbecue at a local restaurant when Rayna had returned from the ladies' room halfway through the meal, only to find their table deserted. Five minutes later, she'd discovered Deacon in the dirt parking lot, throwing back his third shot with some "old friends" she'd never met. Rayna had refused to get in his truck or go back to the cabin with him. Instead, she'd called her sister and sat in the restaurant until Tandy had driven up to take her back to Nashville.
Poor Tandy. She'd seen Rayna through all the bad times with Deacon, but she hadn't seen many of the good times. It was no wonder she wanted nothing more to do with either one of them. Rayna took a deep breath and started unloading the food, resolved to put negative thoughts out of her mind. After all, it was Christmas Eve.
"Lemme go get the rest of the stuff, and then I'll get the fire goin'," Deacon said, breezing into the kitchen and dropping a quick kiss on Rayna's cheek.
"Okay, babe," Rayna said, turning to smile at him. "I'm going to leave this window open another minute just to air the place out a little." The weather was chilly, but there was no snow on the ground, to Rayna's disappointment. As long as they were spending it in the mountains, she had been hoping for a white Christmas.
Deacon brought in four more grocery bags from his truck and then made a final trip, carrying the rest of Rayna's luggage into the bedroom. "You always did pack for a week like you were stayin' a month, darlin'. That's one thing that sure hasn't changed," he said, grinning at her as he put on his leather work gloves and prepared to bring in firewood for the pot-bellied stove that heated the cabin.
She smiled back and rolled her eyes a little at him, shaking her head. Her propensity to over-pack was one of his standing jokes. She watched out the window as he headed for the wood box on the side of the house. She loved even the sight of him, illuminated by the outdoor flood lights, his breath puffing out in white clouds around his head.
They had eaten dinner at the Riverside Christmas party but Rayna knew Deacon would never turn down hot chocolate. She put the groceries away, pulling two instant cocoa packets out and dumping their contents into matching mugs she took from the cupboard. Then she took out the box of cinnamon graham crackers they'd purchased and set them on the counter, smiling as she looked at the cozy little kitchen. Along with the bad times, this place held many good memories, too. It would be wonderful to spend the next several days here, doing nothing more than sleeping in, taking long walks and making love. And who knew? If history was any indicator, they might even write a hit song in the big feather bed some afternoon.
She took the red kettle off the stove and went back to the sink to fill it, then reached up to close the window, realizing that the cabin was getting cold. As she did, she glanced outside. Instantly, her whole body froze. She looked more closely at the sight that met her eyes. Deacon was standing in front of the wood box, his work gloves pulled off, studying an object he held in his bare hands. A moment later, Rayna realized why her heart was suddenly hammering away inside her chest: The thing he was holding was a half-full bottle of whiskey.
Rayna watched in horror, unable to move, as Deacon held up the bottle and seemed to admire it. He unscrewed the cap and brought it slowly up to his nose, inhaling the scent of its forbidden contents, his eyes closed. Rayna gripped the sink, wanting to scream at him to stop, wanting to run outside and knock the bottle out of his hands. She tried, and then she tried again. But nothing happened. She realized that somehow, she was living out a bad dream: She could neither move nor make a sound.
Time seemed to stand still. Deacon looked ready to take a drink at any moment. Rayna could picture the familiar gesture; she had seen it a hundred times: The way he would tip his head back and bring the bottle to his lips, swigging down a large gulp, and then wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a forceful sigh.
The goddamned wood box - of course. It hadn't occurred to her how many temptations undoubtedly riddled this place. Deacon had not been here since his last trip to rehab, so obviously he hadn't purged the cabin of all the liquor he had kept stashed in and around it. Rayna's eyes shot to the pantry, the towel drawer and the cabinet under the sink - all places where she had discovered bottles squirreled away in the past. Should she check them now, before he had a chance to come in and find them?
She still could not move. A sense of dread filled her as she peeked out the window again, still hanging onto the sink for dear life. Deacon was no longer standing by the wood box. For a terrifying instant, Rayna supposed he had taken the liquor and gone somewhere to drink it where she wouldn't find him. Then she saw him, trudging determinedly toward the house, liquid sloshing around in the open bottle, which he gripped so forcefully that his knuckles were turning white. She watched silently, her eyes big and round, as he burst through the back door and walked quickly into the kitchen, his lips compressed into a thin, grim line. He did not even seem to see her as he came toward the sink, wild-eyed. She stepped swiftly out of his way, not sure what he was going to do.
He leaned up against the counter, sighed deeply and closed his eyes, hanging his head. Then he abruptly tipped the alcohol down the drain.
Neither of them said a word. Except for the loud ticking of a clock in the living room and the glug-glug-glug as the bottle disgorged its contents, the house was quiet. When the bottle was empty, Deacon set it on the counter and then, without missing a beat, he moved on to the pantry, the kitchen drawers, the nightstand in the bedroom. He visited all his familiar hiding places around the cabin. There was even a spot on the back porch, inside the water heater cabinet, that Rayna had never discovered. Again and again, he pulled liquor bottles out of the shadows and into the light.
Rayna stepped into the middle of the kitchen and held out her hands. Deacon glanced at her, seeming almost surprised to see her there. He hadn't acknowledged her presence since he'd gone outside, and he didn't speak to her now. He simply began handing over bottles. She poured them down the drain, two at a time, as he continued to ransack the cabin.
Eventually, there were nine empty bottles lined up along the counter, like silent witnesses on a battlefield. The last one Deacon found – a bottle of fine, aged cognac some long-forgotten Edgehill executive had given them to celebrate their first number-one single – gave both of them a moment's pause. Their eyes finally met as Deacon cracked the seal and opened the bottle.
"Cheers," he said, a strange, empty smile on his face. Then he poured the liquid out and set the bottle next to the others, taking a deep breath. He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. The kitchen reeked with the pungent smell of alcohol. Deacon exhaled loudly and turned to Rayna. In his eyes was the haunted look she hadn't seen in months, the one that always sent his pain directly into her heart.
He extended his arms, palms turned up, and shrugged, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Rayna. I didn't think... I didn't even remember all that shit was here."
"I didn't remember either," she said, leaning against the counter across from the sink and exhaling, finally. She had no idea how long she'd been holding her breath, but it felt like forever. She opened her arms to him. "It's okay, babe. C'mere."
He stepped forward gratefully, and put his arms around her, burying his forehead in her shoulder. Rayna could feel his whole body trembling. She knew she was trembling, too. After a moment, she reached up and stroked his back, holding him close. "It's okay, it's okay," she whispered, over and over again.
"I just - I was so surprised to see it. I didn't - I almost ... I mean, that's the closest I've come to-"
"I know," she said. "I know, babe. But you didn't. You didn't. I'm so proud of you."
They stood, holding each other in silence for a few minutes. Then Deacon began moaning quietly. Rayna wondered at first if he was crying. Then she felt his arms roving over her back and he lifted her maternity sweater swiftly and slid his hands underneath it, cold fingers stroking her bare flesh. She inhaled sharply as his hungry mouth found her neck and he began alternating between kissing the tender skin there and nipping at it with his teeth.
Before she could react to the kisses, his hands were underneath her skirt, grabbing her ass and shoving her panties down. Rayna's breath came quicker as he began trying to pull her pelvis closer to his. When his desperate efforts were thwarted by her swollen belly, he growled with exasperation. Rayna could feel a tension building inside of his body that she almost did not recognize.
Over the years, their lovemaking had developed its own slow, sultry rhythm. They liked to linger and tease, drawing each movement out as long as possible for maximum effect. Especially in the weeks since they'd been back together, with her pregnancy now so inescapable, they had been cautious; Rayna had sensed that Deacon was holding back. But there was no hesitation in the way he was touching her now; no luxury in the way his mouth pressed against hers. He began kissing her lips savagely, nearly drawing the breath out of her, his fingers tangled in her hair.
"Deacon," she whispered, pulling her head back, but he continued to cover her lips, kissing her urgently. Suddenly, Rayna flashed back to their earliest encounters: Two over-heated teenagers making the most of stolen moments in darkened guitar closets. But there was something else in his movements now, too - a kind of desperation that seemed eerily familiar.
Rayna struggled to identify it, and then, in a rush of recognition, she knew exactly what it was. This was the kind of explosive energy that radiated off of him when he was drunk. A wave of terror swept over her - and then instantly drained away. No. He wasn't drunk, he couldn't be: She'd seen him pour the liquor out. "Babe," she tried again, but his hands were on either side of her face, holding her still while he continued to rain kisses onto her mouth, her cheeks and her neck, the rough stubble of his beard scratching her.
She could do nothing except cling to him, blindly. And then, before she knew it, a flicker of desire stirred deep inside of her and her body began to respond to his. She realized dimly that Deacon had somehow pushed her panties down past her knees and gotten her bra unfastened. He was pushing her up against the counter, stroking and squeezing her breasts with one hand while the fingers of the other reached down to explore the slick arousal between her legs. Rayna started moaning and panting as her kisses and touches reflected his own urgency. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair in her hands, holding his face close to hers as if she would never let him go.
He groaned raggedly as he slid two fingers inside of her and she gasped, reaching down and yanking his shirt up so she could work the button on his jeans free and slide the zipper down. "Ray - I need you," he choked out, as she pushed his pants and his boxers down with a rough shove. "I have to have you," he whispered, his breath rasping. He began trying to pull her down to the floor, but she resisted. She knew, even in her half-crazed state, that there was no way she could get her ungainly body down there, let alone get back up again.
"No. I can't-"
"Turn around."
Rayna stared at him, seeing that same hollow, needy look his eyes got when he was struggling with his demons. Only now it was not turned inward. It was focused outward, directly on her.
"Turn around, Rayna."
She turned her back to him and braced her forearms against the counter, stepping out of her underwear and spreading her legs for him. Her ass tingled in anticipation as she heard him frantically kicking off his shoes. His pants followed a moment later. Then he lifted her skirt and flipped it up, groaning loudly at the sight of her, open and waiting for him.
Forcefully, he took hold of her hips with both hands and pushed against her from behind. She adjusted to his body and, in one quick movement, he thrust himself deep inside of her, until there was not an inch of space separating them. Both of them were breathing hard; now they began moaning in tandem. He swept her hair out of the way and began kissing the nape of her neck, bringing his hands up under her shirt again and running his thumbs across her nipples, which were already jutting out, hard.
Rayna was so turned on she found herself struggling to stay on her feet. Her body began building to orgasm almost as soon as he started to move inside of her. She thrust her pelvis backwards, matching his rhythm, and reached down to stroke herself with the fingers of her right hand. She wanted to kiss him, to see his face, but she was trapped against the hard counter and his insistent body; he was holding her so tightly she couldn't move. Somehow, that realization only made the whole thing even hotter.
He drove himself into her with increasing fury and Rayna could tell that he was not going to last long. She let herself go and her body was almost immediately gripped with spasms that rippled out from her pelvis in waves - concentric circles of pleasure that radiated all the way through her again and again. She cried out with the force of them and, through a kind of haze, she felt his body go rigid and heard his muffled cry as he emptied himself deep inside of her and collapsed forward onto her back, groaning.
They stayed like that for what felt like forever, but was probably only a couple of minutes. They were both panting and completely spent, sweating and nearly insensible in the wake of the powerful force that had overtaken them. The cabin was again silent, except for the ticking of the clock and their heavy breathing.
Eventually, Deacon gripped the counter, taking his weight off of her. He turned to nuzzle her ear and she arched her back under him, moaning a little. He straightened up and stepped back, helping her turn around, where she sought refuge in his arms. He held her for a few minutes, her clothing still disheveled and her face pressed up against his neck, rocking her body gently against his own and kissing the top of her head.
Then he looked down at her, sweeping her tousled hair off of her face and putting one hand on either side of it.
"Hey."
"Hey, babe. That was ... wow."
He smiled, looking a little concerned. "Yeah, I don't really know what the hell that was. I hope we didn't ... hurt anything."
"We didn't. It's way too late for that," she replied, reaching up to kiss his mouth.
"Good. Guess maybe that was what Gus might call 'gettin' in touch with my wild side.'"
"Yeah? Well, you ought to get in touch with it more often. I like it," Rayna murmured, kissing him deeply and moaning softly, pressing her body tightly against his.
Deacon laughed again and looked down at her. "You liked all five minutes of it, huh?"
"Oh, c'mon. That was more like 10 minutes," she said, sliding her arms around his neck. "Seven, at least. And yeah - I liked every one of them."
They smiled at each other. Then he looked around and his eye caught the opposite counter, his expression darkening as he spied the empty bottles piled up next to the sink.
"I'll get rid of those. Then I'll bring in that firewood." He turned his head and his eyes lit on the other side of the sink. "Hey, is that hot chocolate?" he asked, brightening up considerably.
Rayna nodded. "Yeah. And graham crackers. You want some?"
"Yep," he said, turning back to her and catching an amused look in her eye. "What?"
Rayna shook her head, laughing a little. "Men. You're all about sex and food. Y'all are too easy."
He laughed, tightening his arms around her waist again. "You can't live with us and you can't live without us, huh?"
Rayna smiled, rubbing her nose against his and gazing into his eyes, adoringly. "I could never live without you and be happy, Deacon," she said. "I'm so glad I don't have to try."
"Me too, darlin'. Me, too."
Rayna set her mug of cocoa on the nightstand and climbed carefully off the bed, walking toward her suitcase with a slight groan. She put her hands on the small of her back and rubbed the muscles through her blue cotton nightie.
"What's the matter, sweetie? Your back achin' again?" Deacon asked, from where he was sitting in a white T-shirt and black boxers on the bed.
"Yeah. Every night about this time."
He rearranged the pillow behind his back, scooting up against the headboard, and propping his knees up. He patted the space on the blanket in front of him. "C'mere baby, let me rub it for you."
Rayna finished digging in her suitcase and closed it, turning to smile at him. She crossed the room, carrying something concealed in her hand, and climbed back onto the bed awkwardly. Eventually, she got herself into position directly in front of Deacon and criss-crossed her legs. He leaned forward and kissed her right cheek, then he pushed her hair over her left shoulder and began massaging her tired back and shoulders, working out the kinks and drawing his knuckles up and down the length of her spine for a long time, until she was fairly purring with pleasure.
"Mmmm … how'd you get so good at this, anyway?" she asked, dropping her head back onto his shoulder and smiling up at him.
"Went to massage school at night. Always figured if the music thing didn't work out, I'd have a backup."
She stared up at him quizzically for a moment and then broke out laughing, smacking his knee. "You did not, you big liar," she said, reaching her left hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down for a lingering kiss. When he looked up, she was holding her right palm out in front of him, revealing a small, gift-wrapped box.
"Merry Christmas, babe," she said, twisting around to catch the surprise on his face.
"Oh! Look at that," he said, smiling delightedly. "That looks like it might be for me." He scooted out from behind her body and walked over to his duffle bag, which he'd thrown in a corner. "Hang on, I got somethin' here for you, too." He rustled around for a moment, then extracted a gift box with a gold bow on top. Rayna leaned up against the headboard, watching him with a smile.
Deacon came back to the bed and sat cross-legged, facing her. They laughed as they realized that they'd each used identical green-and-gold striped wrapping paper.
"We always did think alike, didn't we, babe?"
"Yup. I figure that's why we're so good at writin' songs together."
"Why, because of the way you-"
"...finish your sentences?"
"Yeah," Rayna laughed, "something like that." She handed him the present she was holding and took the one from his hand.
"You go first," he said.
"You already got me a present, babe," Rayna said, looking down admiringly at her diamond engagement ring.
"I know. This is just somethin' small, so you'd have a present to open from me."
"You're sweet. You know that?" she asked, leaning forward to kiss him. Then she sat back and tore open the paper, revealing an oblong jeweler's box. She smiled at him, intrigued. Opening it, Rayna saw a delicate silver chain. She held the necklace up and noticed a rectangular-shaped charm in the center. It was unadorned, save for a small purple gemstone.
"This is ... pretty," Rayna said slowly. He could see that she was trying to hide some confusion.
"It's a mother's necklace. That's the February birthstone, for the baby," Deacon explained, hoping that she liked it. "We can have her initials engraved in that little blank spot right there."
Rayna gasped and brought her hand up to her mouth, her eyes moist suddenly.
"Turn it over, darlin'."
She did. "'A Life That's Good'," she read aloud. She closed her eyes and clutched the necklace in her fist, reaching out her arms for him, unable to lean forward far enough to embrace him. He crawled forward and took her in his arms, afraid that the sniffling he heard was tears.
"What's the matter, baby? Don't you like it?"
"Oh Deacon, I love it. I absolutely love it, babe. Thank you so much."
He smiled, reassured. "You're welcome. My mama said she saw somethin' similar in a magazine. She thought you might like it."
Rayna leaned back, wiping her eyes. "I do. Please, tell Linnie I love it," she said, smiling.
Deacon smiled. "Okay."
Rayna looked at the necklace again, admiring the charm, then she placed it carefully on the nightstand, next to their matching mugs of cocoa. "Okay, now you have to open yours, babe," she said, turning back to him and grinning mischievously.
Deacon cocked his head, not sure what the glee on her face was all about. "Okay. Lemme guess: It's a daddy necklace."
Rayna laughed. "Not quite," she teased. "I'll get you one of those for Father's Day."
He smiled and tore the paper off her gift, revealing a ring box. He gazed at her, his eyes shining, and opened it. Inside, nestled on the red velvet, was a man's wedding band. Although he wasn't exactly a jewelry expert, Deacon could tell that this one matched the wedding set he'd gotten her. He lifted it out between his thumb and forefinger, looking at it closely. "That's real good-lookin', Ray. I like it a lot," he said, smiling at her and leaning over to kiss her.
"Really? I wasn't sure you'd want to wear one. We didn't talk about that."
"'Course I do, darlin'. I want everyone to know I'm married to you."
"Okay, babe. I just don't want to crimp your style," she teased, smiling at him. "Hey - look inside."
He squinted and held the ring up to the light, trying to read the engraved inscription inside the band. "'A Life That's Good'," he read, laughing. "Guess we really are finishin' each other's sentences, aren't we, darlin'?"
"Mmm-hmmm," she said, reaching for him again. He moved to sit next to her, putting his arm around her. She slipped the wedding band on his left ring finger and held up his hand, admiring it. He smiled down at her. They sat silently together for a few minutes, then Deacon brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her palm.
"Hey, you know what I was thinkin', darlin'?"
"What?"
"This is our last Christmas together."
Rayna turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised.
"I mean, the last one where it'll be just the two of us, by ourselves. Next year, there'll be three of us."
Rayna smiled and nodded at this, bringing her hands up to her belly and staring off into space, trying to imagine the two of them with a baby next Christmas. Even as tangible as the being squirming and kicking inside of her was at that very moment, it was impossible to picture them with a daughter next year.
She looked back at Deacon and shook her head at him, incredulous. Then she settled into his arms and laid her head onto his shoulder.
"Sometimes I wonder …."
"What?"
"I dunno. I just love you so much. Everything between us is so good; it's so perfect, when it's going right …."
"When I'm not drunk, you mean."
"Yeah, um - yeah, that's what I mean."
"So, what's the problem?"
"There's no problem. I just wonder sometimes whether I can love anyone as much as I love you, you know? I mean, how could I possibly love this baby that much? And then I feel like I'm already a bad mother, just for worrying about that."
Deacon smiled, both surprised and touched by this admission. She hadn't confessed any misgivings about motherhood to him before; he'd thought he was the only one insecure about parenting.
"Darlin', this baby is ours: It's part of us. The best part of both of us. You're gonna fall in love with her the minute you lay eyes on her. I know you will. We both will."
She looked at him. He smiled reassuringly, trying hard to embody a confidence he didn't entirely feel. It seemed to help: She relaxed back into his arms.
"Think about it, babe. Next year, she'll be almost a year old. She'll be sitting up and getting into all the presents and probably even crawling."
"Yup, that's right. I'll have to baby-proof the whole house, I guess. And this place."
She sat up and stared off again, lost in thought for a moment. "You know what, babe? We should spend Christmas up here every year. It's so beautiful and quiet outside. And this place - it's so homey and cozy and we can make it really fun for her. Can we?"
Deacon looked at her, gazing over at him with her eyes sparkling and a wide smile on her face, as if she were still a girl herself. The girl he'd fallen in love with all those years ago, at the Bluebird Cafe.
"Course we can, darlin', if you want. Guess I'll have to add on a few rooms, though, if we're all gonna fit up here every year."
She looked at him again, curious. "All? How many of us are you counting on, babe?"
"Oh, I dunno, I figure we'll want to have four or five kids by the time we're done, won't we?"
Rayna's eyes grew round and Deacon laughed at the look of utter shock on her face. She smacked his knee again. "Oh sure, as long as you carry the next litter. Let me just get through labor with this one first, before we start talking about any more, okay babe?!"
"Okay."
He took her chin into his hand delicately and tipped her head back, bending down and kissing her on the mouth. Then he moaned appreciatively and kissed her again, licking her bottom lip this time.
"What're you doing?"
"Your lips taste sweet, like chocolate."
"Mmmm..."
"Wonder if you taste sweet anyplace else?"
"Well, I don't know about that. I guess maybe you'll have to try and see."
"Maybe I will."
"Merry Christmas, babe."
"Merry Christmas, darlin'.