It's just past eleven when Watty drops her home.

He's spent the entire drive raving about the song and Deacon and how happy he is they've found each other. She's spent the entire drive trying to stop herself from replaying the kiss over and over in her head.

There's not a chance in hell she's going to sleep tonight. She's wired. If they plugged her in, she could probably power the Christmas lights of the whole neighborhood.

She kicks her boots off, drops her purse and jacket in the middle of the hall. She paces the living room back and forth until she lets herself fall to the couch.

She needs all these thoughts to stop whirling around in her head.

She reaches for the remote and turns the TV on. In another unexpected twist — there have been a few already this evening — Luke's face pops up on the giant screen. The Christmas special. She'd forgotten it was supposed to air tonight.

"How can you do this thing to me?" Luke croons, and she could swear he's staring straight at her through the screen. She's quick to turn the TV off again.

For heaven's sake.

The universe is sending her some pretty mixed messages tonight.

—

The wedding planner has sent five texts already to remind Rayna she still needs her approval on the final seating arrangements. She sounds more and more desperate with every text. Rayna decides to put her out of her misery and writes a quick reply to say she trusts her.

Whether Aunt Violet and Uncle Edward are going to sit at their table is the least of her problems at the moment.

There's only one thing she can think about this morning, the same thing that has kept her awake for most of the night. She needs to do something about it or it's going to drive her insane.

It's half past eight, so Scarlett must be in school already. She can't be sure if Deacon will be home, but she has to try. She leaves her coffee half empty on the kitchen counter and grabs her car keys.

Even though she almost chickens out a few times on her way over there, she still makes it to Deacon's house. As she walks up to his door, she wonders if Deacon has neighbors that might have noticed she keeps coming here. It's a thought that somehow hadn't crossed her mind until now.

She knocks.

Once.

Twice.

Behind her, someone clears his throat. "Uh, hi." She turns around to find Vince standing at the bottom of the porch stairs. "We need to stop meeting like this, people are going to talk," he jokes. "Let me guess, still nothing I can help you with?"

"I don't know, I kissed Deacon last night, can you help me with that?" she snarks.

Vince remains speechless. She can't believe she just blurted that out to him. A complete stranger. She's going to blame it on the lack of sleep, because, really, what is wrong with her?

"Okay," he says, after a while, "do you... want to talk about it?"

She does want to talk about it. That's why she's here. He's just not the person with whom she wants to talk about it. When he gestures for her to follow him on a path around the house, she does as told anyway. The path leads to an entrance at the back, and they get in before they climb the stairs up to his appartment.

He holds the door as she steps inside. "What can I offer you? Coffee? Tea?" A pause. "Whiskey?"

Whiskey sounds tempting at the moment. "Coffee would be great," she says.

His kitchen table is cluttered with magazines and various items that he rushes to remove. She assumes it's where he expects her to sit.

"So... you and Deacon are friends?" she asks.

"Yeah, pretty much since the day he and the cupcake moved in downstairs. He's an easy guy to be friends with."

While he's busy preparing coffee, she casts a glance around. Judging by the guitars and the tour posters on the wall, she guesses he must be a musician too.

He puts two mugs on the table, sliding one her way, before he sits on the chair across from her.

"Now, Rayna Jaymes. Let's talk about what's going on in that brain of yours," he says putting on a weird accent. She's not sure whom exactly he's trying to impersonate, and it's all very silly, still she can't help but smile.

"Well, I'm supposed to get married next week."

"I've vaguely heard about that," he quips. How could he not have. Her and Luke's faces have been on the cover of every magazine lately.

"I went to see Deacon play at the Bluebird last night, and..."

"Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?"

"Is it important?"

"I'd say it is."

"I guess what's important is that I wanted to." She touches her lips, instinctively, and when she becomes aware of it, she's quick to put her hand back on the table.

He tilts his head to the side, his fingers tapping against the side of his mug. There's a rhythm to it, and it confirms her earlier suspicion that he must be a musician. "I think Deacon wouldn't be happy with me telling you this, but he's been talking about you constantly since you two first wrote together. And it's very... unlike him."

She hesitates. "What can you tell me about him?" She feels uneasy to asks without Deacon being here, but curiosity wins out.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything you want to tell me."

He ponders his next words. "Deacon is... a genuinely good guy. There's some darkness under it all, things he doesn't like to talk about that trace back to his childhood. He says every time the darkness threatens to rear its ugly head, he remembers he has the cupcake to look after. He wants to make sure the kid has the best childhood, unlike him." Vince sounds uneasy too now, like he just realized it isn't his story to tell. "What I think you should do, though, is talk about all this with him."

She nods. "I know." It hadn't been fair of her to ask and to put him in this position. She points a finger at the mug. "Thanks for the coffee and for... listening."

"Anytime, Rayna Jaymes. Anytime."

—

There's a dark blue truck parked in front of her house when she gets back home. Its owner is sitting inside, looking like he's gathering up the courage to leave his seat. When she pulls up next to him and he spots her, his smile is immediate.

Before she has time to move, he has jogged around his truck and he's opening her door for her.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I was at your place," she explains while getting out of the car.

"Well, I was... here," he says, and they both chuckle at that.

She catches herself staring, and God, she needs to stop. She had already noticed last night the way he licks his lips when he's nervous, and she really, really shouldn't focus on that right now.

One of them will have to start this conversation, but it seems they're both waiting for the other to jump in first.

What she should be telling him is that she is sorry about last night and that it can't ever happen again, but it would make her a hypocrite. She's not anywhere close to sorry, and she very much hopes it will happen again.

"Listen—" they both start at the same time, and they smile.

"Go ahead."

"This... thing," she says, gesturing between them because, really, she has no idea what to call it, "is just... crazy. I mean... we met less than a week ago."

"I know."

"We barely know each other."

"I know." There's a silence, and then Deacon looks resolute. "You know what? Let's fix that then. I'm taking you out on a date. Would now work for you?"

She lets out a little laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, what do you say?" He holds out his hand to her. "Trust me?"

—

The snowfall from last night didn't end up lasting long, but it's been enough to cover everything with a thin layer of white that hasn't melted yet.

The spot Deacon has driven her to is still immaculate. There are no footprints on the ground or any sign that might indicate someone has been here since.

He cleans the snow off a lone picnic table and puts a thick blanket on it before they sit with their feet on the bench. She's the one holding the coffees and pastries they stopped to buy on their way here, and so she hands him one cup and lays the pastries box between them.

"I come here when I need to clear my head," he explains. "The quiet, and the sound of water, it helps me focus."

"Is it where you bring all your first dates?" she asks. She'd meant it as a joke, and it only occurs to her afterwards that she'd rather he didn't answer that.

He bursts out laughing like it's such a ridiculous idea. "Oh, no. The only thing I bring here sometimes is a guitar."

After that, they talk about almost everything.

He asks about her mom, and she asks about his sister, about Scarlett. She tells him how after her mom died, things with her father became more and more complicated until the day he finally kicked her out of the house. He tells her how he knew next to nothing about raising a child at the time but there was not a chance in hell he was going to let Scarlett end up in foster care.

"What made you decide to come back to Nashville?" she asks.

"I was missing music too much. I was still writing, and I had sort of a recurring gig at the local bar, but it wasn't anywhere close to enough. I knew I could never be satisfied with only having music in my life, I needed music to be my life." He pauses. "I don't know if I make sense."

"You do." More than he can imagine.

"So I had a big talk with Scarlett. I wanted to be sure she understood what it meant if we were going to move. She'd have to change school, to make new friends, everything would be new. And you know what she told me? That it was okay because I needed to keep chasing my dreams. A six-year-old told me to keep chasing my dreams." He smiles and shakes his head in disbelief.

"Is it what you do, chasing your dreams?"

"I'm discovering new ones every day," he says, and he makes sure his eyes are locked onto hers, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

She has spent the morning pretending she had some choice to make, but she realizes now it's been a lie. She knows what she wants. She has known since the moment he kissed her in the Bluebird parking lot. Maybe before that.

There's no other path, not really.

She clears her throat. "If this is us being honest and all, I think I should mention that I... talked to Vince earlier."

He looks horrified, and she finds it highly amusing. "You talked to Vince?"

"We crossed paths outside your house."

"Whatever he said, I feel like I should apologize."

She laughs. "Oh, no, he's been really... considerate."

"Vince? Are we talking about the same Vince?"

She nods, smiling. She wraps her freezing fingers around her coffee cup, then. It doesn't yield the desired effect, though, as the coffee is almost cold by now. Deacon notices it, and he takes the cup from her before he puts her hands between his to warm them up.

"Deacon," she says, "before this can go any further, there are things I need to... take care of." And she fears it won't be a smooth ride. It's more likely it will end up being a gigantic mess. "So, I might... need a little bit of time."

"You take as much time as you need."

—

While Deacon is driving her home, she thinks how none of this is Luke's fault. There is nothing he could have done or not done that would have changed the course of fate.

It's all very unfair to him.

But then, wouldn't it be even more unfair for her to stay with him for the wrong reasons?

—

TBC

A/N: "How can you do this thing to me?" is an actual lyric of the show's version of "Baby It's Cold Outside", and it made laugh.