Sorry for leaving you guys on a cliffhanger with this one. That's not typically my style, but I think it works here. :)
"Thanks." Rayna mumbled, taking the coffee from Deacon's shaky hands.
He nodded and took a seat next to her, silence embracing them as they both took to their own thoughts.
Rayna focused on the cup in her hands, retreating further and further into a state of shock as they waited on the doctor to come in and confirm or deny their biggest fears.
Deacon shifted his gaze to various items around the room. Rayna had finally agreed to come into the room they had provided her to wait when Deacon convinced her anywhere and everywhere in the hospital was going to be just as nerve-wracking and at least in the room they'd have some privacy.
It was a good point, he supposed, but he understood the second they walked in why she'd been putting it off. While warmly decorated, the room was absolutely frozen. The paintings of gardens were generic, the couches, while upscale, were worn by so many others before them who sat in the same predicament.
He didn't want to say anything to her because he wanted her to be as calm as possible, but his skin started crawling right when they went in.
His eyes floated to the mint green leather purse in the floor, opposite Rayna's. There were specs of dirt on the outside of it, as well as a few tiny shards of glass.
"That hers?"
Rayna nodded solemnly.
"Yeah. We went shopping last week."
Deacon sighed and gingerly reached for the bag, pulling it into his lap. He grinned sadly as he traced his fingers over the design etched on the front. The bag was so her.
He glanced over at Rayna; coffee in one hand, face buried in the other. He wanted to go to her as he had earlier, but something stopped him. He sighed angrily at himself for even considering that their whole awkward mess could even be at any forefront at this time, but if he was being honest, the raw moment had passed. They'd cried and screamed and held each other because they were scared and mutually hurting, but then they'd picked themselves up; they'd gathered a fraction of their senses and walked out of that chapel and into the room they now occupied.
His mind wandered to all sorts of places—the day he lashed out and told Maddie about his ill-fated proposal; the day he was threatened with a lawsuit and practically kidnapped on tour to purposely be kept from his daughter; the day he let his pain get the better of him and fucked a backup singer in a truck stop like some junkie.
He shook his head of the memories, moving on to the next part of his rollercoaster.
Rayna had gone against all good judgment made some flattering comments about their relationship in a magazine, effectively ending her relationship with Luke and landing her on his porch in the middle of the night again.
This time, he'd rejected her. He was over it, he thought. Just as he'd hurt her all those years, now it was time for them to face what she had done to him. Just as she had to be strong and move away from his toxicity, so was it his turn.
Everything was different.
He'd come home to his daughter, but she seemed broken to him. He wanted to help her; he wanted badly to heal her hurt, but she was on another plane.
He'd spoken to Rayna and asked what they should do, to which she had responded with a flat "she's gotta find her way."
He could be angry with her for that now, looking around at where they were. Maddie had certainly "found her way," he thought bitterly.
But it was that moment, while Rayna ignored yet another phone call that he couldn't be angry with her—he'd missed the signs just as easily.
He sighed.
Even in the depths of her pain, she was beautiful. He was taken aback at how seeing her beauty always managed to ease his own pain.
A vibrating in his lap snapped him back to reality, and he quickly surmised it was coming from inside Maddie's purse. Startled, he rummaged through it until he found her phone.
No name came up with the number.
"Ray, someone's callin' her."
Rayna's tearstained face turned upwards.
"Who is it?"
He shrugged.
"Just a number. I don't know. Should I answer?"
Rayna collected her thoughts for a moment and nodded slowly.
"Might as well."
He swiped the answer bar on the phone and pulled it to his face.
"Hello?"
He heard background noise, but no answer.
"Hello?" He asked again, with a slight bit more annoyance.
"Dad?"
His head snapped up like he'd heard a thousand angels sing the sweetest chorus; he was certain his grief had finally brought along hallucinations.
"Maddie?"
What came next wasn't some hazy wish or figment of his imagination; it was real. It was honest, it was true, and it was the moment he would remember forever as the moment he finally felt he was no longer being punished for his transgressions—he was finally forgiven.
"How'd you get my phone?"