For a little while, I thought it might end us. It surely wasn't what we'd planned, those nights on that rickety old bus, scrunched into that little bed in the back, talking about our hopes and dreams for the future. Those hopes and dreams were that we would be the next Johnny and June, Emmylou and Gram, Tammy and George. For a while there, I didn't think there was a glass of whiskey deep enough to cover up the pain.


Watty met me at a nondescript little diner not far from the little East Nashville apartment where Deacon and I lived. He had called that morning and said he wanted to see me. Just me. I probably should have been suspicious then, but, truthfully, I was a little hungover and Deacon was a lot hungover, so he didn't mind. I brought him some aspirin and a glass of water and left it on the little table by the bed, but not before he grabbed me and pulled me down on top of him.

"Deacon, I'm going to be late," I said, laughing as I did. Then I moaned as he ran his hand over my breast. He kissed me, tugging at my lip until I opened my mouth and let his tongue tangle with mine, getting me all hot and bothered.

He slid his hand down to my leg, pushing up my denim skirt and flicking his fingers over my panties, between my legs. "Just want you to remember what you're missing," he murmured. He looked at me, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "Don't stay long," he said, moving his hand to cup my ass.

I didn't want to go at all now, but it was Watty. So, reluctantly, I gave Deacon another deep, lingering kiss, then made myself get up off the bed. I stood looking at him, smoothing down my skirt, still a little breathless. He looked up at me with a little smile on his face. God, I loved him. I couldn't get enough of him, in any way, shape or form.

I ran my tongue lightly over my lips. "I'll be back as soon as I can," I said.


As I drove the short distance to the diner in Deacon's rattly old truck, I thought that I'd been incredibly lucky to have met Deacon Claybourne that night at the Bluebird. Watty had thought we'd make a good pair and he was right. I was just sixteen then. Barely. I had been sneaking around for a few months, playing at open mics, trying to make my dream of being a country music artist a reality. Daddy didn't understand. Actually he forbade me to do it. Of course, he was never around to really monitor that. Ever since Mom had died, when I was twelve, he was always off on some business trip, leaving my sister Tandy and me alone in the house, with just the servants as supervision.

Whenever he caught me playing the guitar Mom gave me or singing in my room, he would rage at me. I didn't really understand why it was such a big deal, except that it probably had to do with the fact that Mom was the one who'd encouraged me. They had always been fighting, long before the car accident that killed her. Tandy and I would huddle in her bed, unable to keep the sounds of their vicious arguments at bay. I would cry and Tandy would hug me, telling me it would be okay, that she would protect me. That it was the two of us against the world.

It only stopped when Mom died. And then Daddy was so distant. I shook my head and made a noise. Daddy was out of my life now. That had happened when I'd come home after my first paying gig to find all my stuff in the foyer. He'd told me that if I kept at this "folly", that I couldn't live in his house. if you live in this house, you have to go by my rules. And that meant I couldn't follow my dream.

But he had underestimated my determination. I know he thought I'd give in. I was sixteen, after all. What would I do? Where would I go? I had no money, I had nothing. I remember standing there, a little in shock, just looking at my suitcases, all lined up. I imagined that Imogene, the housekeeper, had packed them all, probably crying a little bit. But no one defied Daddy. No one but me, of course.

He had appeared at the top of the stairs then. I looked up and he stood there, his face all screwed up with anger. "I told you, Rayna," he said. "If you kept on with this little folly of yours, you were on your own. So now what are you going to do?"

I stood there, looking at him, in my short denim skirt and gingham top and my red cowboy boots. My knees were shaking and I felt like I was going to throw up. But I took a deep breath and narrowed my eyes. "I'm going to follow my dream, Daddy," I said, my voice shaking just a little. I hoped not enough for him to tell.

He stood there for a moment. Then he scowled at me. "Then you'll do it on your own," he said, his voice flat. And he turned and walked away.

"Oh, you don't have to worry, Daddy!" I shouted after him. "I'm never coming back here!" I couldn't help the tears that started running down my cheeks, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let Lamar Wyatt tell me what to do. So I went and opened the front door and started taking my suitcases out on the front porch. When I got them all out, I slammed the door shut. Then I put everything in my car and I drove out of his driveway.

I frowned as I thought of that scene, just as I pulled up to the diner. I parked the truck and got out, hurrying in, shaking off the stench of that long ago moment as I did. Watty was waiting for me, in a booth, and waved me over. I slid into the opposite bench and smiled at him, taking his offered hand and squeezing it. "Hey, Watty," I said.

"Hey there, my little songbird. Thanks for coming," he said with a smile.

"Of course." I'd do anything Watty asked. He was the one that had discovered me, had paired me with Deacon, and had gotten us started. He had helped us find a manager and had even loaned us the money for our first tour bus. Deacon Claybourne and Rayna Jaymes wouldn't exist without Watty White, so I owed him everything. "What's up?"

A waitress came over and poured us coffee. Watty ordered eggs and bacon and I ordered just toast.

He looked at me intently. "I've got some news," he said. He took a deep breath. "When you and Deacon were at that showcase last week, there were a number of A&R guys there." I was holding my breath. "Edgehill Republic is an up and coming label, headed up by Dan Eagle, who was most recently with Sony Nashville. They'd like to sign you."

"What?" I was sure I'd misunderstood. "They want to sign us?"

Watty sat back, his eyes almost sad. "You, Rayna. They want to sign you."

I felt a pit in the bottom of my stomach. "But Deacon and I are a duo, Watty. You know that. We're in this together. Not separately."

Watty shrugged. "I know you've been performing as a duo, but, Rayna, you know Deacon isn't always reliable. And he's developed a reputation…."

I frowned. "No. I'm not doing this without Deacon."

"He can still be your guitar player, Rayna. That won't be a problem."

"No, Watty. We're a duo. They can sign both of us."

He shook his head. "They're not going to do that. It's just you they want."

"Then we'll just wait. We'll sign with someone else."

Watty just looked at me. "No one's going to sign Deacon," he said quietly. "Not even with you. You're the one with the star power anyway. Don't let this pass you by, Rayna."

I started to get out of the booth. I couldn't believe Watty would even suggest that I do this without Deacon. But then he grabbed my wrist. I looked at him. "I can't do this without him," I said.

"Yes, you can. You're going to have a huge career, Rayna, but it's going to be as a solo artist. I've always known that. I told Deacon that back when y'all first got together." I was shocked at that. Deacon had never said anything to me about that. "He'll understand. And y'all can still write together. He can still back you up. You can even still do your duets. But you're the one they want. You're the one any label's going to want. But Edgehill's going to be the label to give you more creative freedom right now. I think you need to do this."

I sat back in the booth. The waitress came back with the coffee and food. I watched as she put everything down and left the check. Then I looked back at Watty. "This is going to devastate him, Watty," I said. "All of this was supposed to be the two of us. Together."

"It still is. It's just that the record deal is for you." He smiled understandingly. "Don't walk away from this, Rayna. That's my advice to you. Deacon will understand."

I opened my mouth to say something, but then stopped. I had no idea how I was going to tell Deacon that we weren't going to do this together. That wasn't our plan, our dream. We'd just spent the last four years building ourselves up as a duo, pouring our hearts out to each other on stage with those great, intimate ballads we liked to write. I had no idea where this road was going to take us. I wasn't as sure as Watty that he was going to understand.

I was pretty sure nothing would ever be the same again.