Several people asked for a "what happens next" after the end of "Back to Me Without You." This is for you.
Deacon was at The Bluebird for a songwriter's night. Normally I would have gone too and sat at the bar, proudly watching him. But Maddie had a tummy ache and was crying for mama, so I reluctantly sent Deacon on his way. I couldn't leave Maddie with Tandy when she needed me.
Truth be told, it was actually nice to have some time to think. Maddie went to sleep pretty easily, all things considered, and it gave me time to think about the big plan I wanted to talk to Deacon about. I pulled on some sweats and one of his old flannel shirts and curled up on the couch.
I knew Deacon would come home tonight and, after we'd checked on Maddie and then made love like we did every night, he would tell me his number. 1,706 as of today. The number of days he'd been sober. That was our ritual, every night before we went to sleep. 1,706. I knew the number too, but I never got tired of hearing him say it out loud. It was his promise to me, that he was in this for the long haul. I was so proud of him. I'd been scared in the beginning. When I left Teddy and showed up at Deacon's to tell him about Maddie, I was terrified, wondering if I'd done the right thing. He hadn't been out of rehab that long, but once he was back in Nashville, I couldn't keep Maddie a secret from him. I felt like I had to take a chance. I spent close to a year mentally crossing my fingers, watching him. I finally started to relax, but he never did. He always wanted to show me he could do this and I loved him all the more for it.
He'd been scared too, that day I came to him. Scared of being a dad, scared he would disappoint me again, scared it could all be taken away in an instant. He wasn't sure he was ready for all of it, but we talked about it. A lot. It was important to me that if he ever felt overwhelmed, ever felt close to the edge, that he would tell me. And that we would figure it out together. There were a handful of times that I would have to step away, spend the night at Tandy's so he could get himself under control. Cole would be there for him and usually in a day or so he would call me to tell me Deacon had gotten through it and I could come home.
Home. I smiled to myself. This was the home I'd been searching for. The home that Deacon, Maddie and I had created these past four years. Deacon had gotten stronger every day and now 1,706 days in, he rarely felt like he couldn't handle things. Now that Maddie was four and could talk to us and had her own little personality, she and Deacon had grown very attached. I loved watching the two of them together, in their own daddy-daughter world. She would snuggle into his side as he sang to her or read to her or just talked to her. And periodically they would look towards me and smile, as if to say "we haven't forgotten you." But it was ok. Because Maddie had been the one that reminded Deacon every day that this, being sober and healthy, was worth doing.
After I went and checked on Maddie, I fixed myself a cup of tea. I sat on the couch with my legs drawn up under me and sipped it. Deacon had started this regular gig at The Bluebird a couple months earlier, when the last tour was over. Every third Thursday. It was a good outlet for him, because there were a lot of songs he wrote that weren't quite the right tone for me, but were still great songs that deserved to be heard. I still nudged him a little about going out on his own, but he always said he was happy with things the way they were. When we were out on the road, Maddie went with us, and I have to admit that having our little family together was heaven. And selfishly, I liked having Deacon with me. Now that I had him back and he'd been sober for all these years, I wanted to enjoy every moment.
I smiled to myself as I thought about him right now. In the Round nights were great opportunities for songwriters to show off their songs and to interact with each other. Deacon would always do at least one or two of the songs that we wrote together; the crowd would always expect it. I know that there were times when I was there that people wondered why I didn't get up and sing with him, but I didn't want to overshadow him there. This was his time to shine and I just wanted to support him. I was happy that he had developed a bit of a following and so I knew he would be home late, after chatting up some of his fans. The songwriters always had a bit of a competition going to see who could do the best job of filling up The Bluebird. The nights Deacon played were fast becoming a pretty hot ticket.
I set down my empty tea cup and stretched out on the couch. In my head I heard the words of the song that Deacon had written for me, about me, all those years ago. Two arms around me, heaven to ground me/And a family that always calls me home/Four wheels to get there, enough love to share/And a sweet, sweet, sweet song/At the end of the day, Lord I pray, I have a life that's good. I definitely had a life that was good. I wasn't sure it was going to happen, but it had. I had taken a risk this last time, but it had surely paid off. I smiled to myself and closed my eyes.
"Ray." I groaned a little. "Rayna." I struggled to open my eyes and then I smiled sleepily at Deacon. He smiled back at me. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he said.
I rolled over on my back and stretched my arms over my head. I hadn't meant to fall asleep, but I guess I had. "How was it?" I asked.
He knelt down on the couch and laid over me, nudging my legs slightly apart so that he could lay in between them. I caught my breath as I felt him hard against my core. The man sure knew how to wake me up. "It was a good night," he said, his voice rough, in between little kisses on my neck. "Good crowd. But I was ready to get home." He moved his hips and gently started to rub against me.
I groaned and bent my knees, drawing my legs up slightly so that he hit me right in my sweet spot. I wound my arms around his neck and drew him in for a kiss. I could feel the pressure building and that exquisite tension flooding through me. I moved my own hips against him. "Oh, babe, I'm so glad you're home," I breathed into his mouth.
I could feel him smile. "You need me, huh?" he teased. He lifted himself up slightly with one arm and slid the other hand into the waistband of my sweats, sliding it down and through my wetness. I caught my breath and he moaned. He slid two fingers inside me, which made me groan again. Then he pulled out. "Let's go to bed," he said, his voice filled with desire.
I nodded and let him get up, then help me up. Twice on the way to the bedroom, he would stop and draw me against him, pressing himself hard into my ass and sliding his hand down my pants. It was always this way with us and I was glad it still was. We tried to be more careful now. After all, we had a young, impressionable daughter and, while it was fine for her to see our closeness, it probably wouldn't be a good thing for her to see us in the middle of sex. By the time we got to the bedroom, we were both in a frenzy for each other. He slid my pants down and as I stepped out of them, he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his own pants. With a loud groan, he pushed me down on the bed and slid inside me quickly, without even undressing. When we were both satisfied, we lay there with our arms around each other and laughed.
"Mm, that was good," I murmured. "But maybe next time we get all the way undressed?"
Deacon smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. "I like the way you think." And so we finished undressing, but before we even got under the covers, he was running his hands over my breasts and then down between my legs again. I never got tired of this. When we finally were under the covers, spooning each other, breathing hard and feeling complete, he whispered in my ear, "One thousand seven hundred and six."
I smiled as he said it and then said, as I always did, "I'm so proud of you, babe." But this night, instead of just drifting off to sleep, I turned in his arms to face him, looking deep into his questioning eyes. "Deacon," I said softly. "I want another baby."