"Not a lot of people know this, but before Deacon's sister decided to donate, we were on a list just like everybody else, and we had a …false alarm, I guess you'd call it. Deacon got all the way to the operating table before it fell through with the donor liver. And so we had to leave that hospital with our daughter and just…start waiting again. We were all like zombies on the car ride home. And I remember getting right into bed and just lying there thinking, my god; how did we ever, ever think we had problems before this?"

- RAYNA JAYMES, INTERVIEW WITH ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE, JUNE 2016

"You ok?" she whispers eventually. He's lying on his back with his eyes closed, but she knows he's about as near to sleep as she is.

"Yeah," he replies quietly, brave as ever. "You?"

"Yeah."

Her rolls over to face her. "Really?"

And she would have been fine – she really thinks she would have held it together – if he hadn't looked at her, hadn't showed just that extra little bit of concern.

"No," she admits immediately, before she can help it, her whole face crumpling, the tears springing to her eyes unbidden.

The look on his face, the heartbreak when he sees her cry, just makes it worse.

He pulls her into him fiercely and she shudders against his chest, silent sobs wracking her whole body.

"I'm sorry," she says eventually, trying to sniff back the tears.

"Hey." His voice is so gentle. "What do you say to me?"

Rayna manages a watery smile, rolling her eyes a little as she peeks up at him. "No apologies," she quotes back, pressing a kiss against his lips.

He just holds her, then, his arms solid and protective around her, the predictable in out of his breathing a comfort and an agony at once. She doesn't have to explain how she's feeling, and he doesn't tell her not to feel that way. And Rayna knows enough about relationships at this point to know that it's rare, to have someone who gets it – gets her – like that.

Is it any wonder she just wants to keep him? Is that really so much to ask? She'd give up anything – every cent and every platinum record – just to have this one thing. If only it worked that way.

"Do we need to talk about what happens… if you don't get a transplant?" she whispers, a few minutes later.

"I don't want to," she adds shakily. "I don't even want to think about it. But do we need to?"

"Reckon we probably do," Deacon replies slowly, stoically. "But not yet, ok? Cause right now, I'm alright."

He tilts her face up to look at him. "Being here with you, gettin' to start making our family, that's pretty much the happiest I've ever been in my life," he says with a shy sort of smile. "And physically, I'm fine, you know? I'm not in any pain. The only thing botherin' me right now is a sinus infection, apparently."

She laughs a little, nudging her foot into his shin.

"This has been a hell of day," he acknowledges. "But the truth is, if you think about it, we're no worse off than we were yesterday."

Rayna seems to consider this for a second, worrying the inside of her lip. "I guess so," she admits. It's still pretty hard to feel happy about that fact.

Deacon brushes the hair back from her face. "You know I love you, right?" he says softly.

She smiles, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, his mouth, wherever she can reach. "I do know. And you're right. All those conversations… we don't need to be having them yet."

She snuggles against him with a quiet sigh, closing her eyes. He's here right now. And tomorrow is another day.