I'm glad y'all are interested in this "what if" version of the season 1 finale. This chapter is Deacon's perspective on what happened that night.
All Deacon wanted was a drink. He hadn't actually wanted a drink in years. He had struggled with his sobriety for so long that he never thought the day would come when he wouldn't actively crave a drink. But at some point, after five attempts at rehab, he'd finally found the strength to stick with it, to stay sober. First it was every minute of the day, then it became a one day at time thing. Later it was weeks, months, then finally years. And as each year went by, he felt stronger, more in control, more certain that he had finally found the way to stay sober. Not that he ever fooled himself into thinking he didn't have to keep working at it, but it became a way of life.
In the past, whenever there was a tough situation or a stressful event, he'd drink. Eventually he drank even for no reason at all except that it was there. He eventually drank to excess so much that he lost hours, days, even weeks. That's when he got scared enough that when Coleman had taken him to rehab that fifth time, he'd vowed to make it work. Even though when he got out, Rayna was lost to him, he still stayed focused. He got sober, finally, for her, and he stayed sober, for her.
But now, because of her, he wanted a drink.
Maddie Conrad had showed up on his doorstep with a piece of paper and news that caused him to question his entire life for the last thirteen years. She had a paternity test that showed Teddy Conrad was not her father and a theory that he was. Because, as she said through her sobs, "I know you dated Mom right before she married Dad."
That wasn't true though. Rayna had broken up with him many months before she got pregnant with Maddie. He was sure of it. But none of it made sense. The paternity test was clear; Teddy was not Maddie's father. Who could it have been though? He didn't know of anyone else that Rayna dated then. He was positive it couldn't be him. Or could it? He didn't remember being with her, but that was also when his blackouts were at their worst.
At first he couldn't imagine that Rayna would lie to him. About anything. He'd loved her since he was nineteen years old. She was his family. He was hers. For so long they'd had no one but each other. She had been there for all those years that he struggled with drinking. It had taken him two stays in rehab to finally accept that he was a drunk. Just like his daddy. And yet she'd stayed. He knew he'd tried her patience and there were a lot of hard, difficult times. Times when he thought she would leave him. But for a long time she didn't. Until she did.
She'd stood on his front porch late one night not so long ago and told him she loved him. That she'd always loved him. She wouldn't have done that if he was Maddie's father. She would never have done that. Would she?
It was gnawing at him, eating away at him. He wanted a drink in the worst way. He had to fight the instinct – hard – for the first time in years. He had gone to a meeting instead of picking up Rayna. He couldn't face her yet, couldn't talk to her, but he needed support. Badly. He'd left before the meeting was over. The craving was overwhelming and he found himself gripping the steering wheel so tightly his hands hurt. When he got near Bridgestone Arena, it would have been so easy to go into one of the honky tonks and get that drink, but he forced himself not to.
She couldn't have lied to me. She's been in my bed all these nights. I've made love to her over and over again. She couldn't lie to me all the while that I'm touching her and kissing her and making love to her. She wouldn't do that. He kept telling himself that over and over. But the thought kept creeping in. Or would she?
When he saw her backstage, just as they were going on for her performance, she looked upset. "I thought you were picking me up," she'd said, confusion on her face.
He'd shrugged. "I got waylaid," he'd told her and brushed by her. He could hardly stand to look at her. On stage, he'd glared at her and, whenever she'd looked over her shoulder at him, he'd felt rage inside. While she was getting glad handed offstage after the performance, he snuck off. He'd paced the hallways of the arena, trying to work off steam, trying to convince himself not to just bolt for the nearest bar. He needed to ask. He was afraid to ask. What if she said yes. What if she said no. Neither answer really worked, but he needed one.
Finally he'd worked up the courage to go to her dressing room. She was getting her hair done when he walked in, and the first thing he thought was that she looked so pretty. He'd always liked when she wore her hair up, so that he could take it down. But then he remembered why he was there and asked if they could talk. After her stylists left, he sat down and just blurted it out. Tell me you haven't been lying to me every moment of the last thirteen years.
The look on her face, the fact that she couldn't say a word, told him she had, in fact, lied to him all those years. He felt sick to his stomach. He needed that drink. Badly. He could barely process the rest of what she told him. It had happened when he was blacking out, because, God help him, he did not remember. She had gone to Teddy and they had decided not to tell him. He still didn't understand why she'd never told him. And then he walked out.
She had followed him. Calling after him. She told him she wanted to explain, but he wasn't interested. He'd let her drive him home though. When he thought about that now, he realized he'd let her do it so that he wouldn't get in his truck and drive to a bar.
That was always his fallback. Whenever times got tough, he drank. And he really didn't want to drink. He didn't want to give in. He'd been sober for the last thirteen years. He didn't want to have to start over. So he let her put him into her limo and drive him home. As mad as he was at her, as hurt and humiliated as he felt to find out that the one person he trusted more than anyone else had betrayed him, as not ready to forgive her or even be sure he could forgive her, he was grateful that she did what she always did. She took care of him. And he let her.