Broken Strings

Twenty

"Must have been an adjustment for you too," Travis commented. His gaze slid forward, away from Brock's face again, and concentrated on a portion of the creek that was visible from their little tucked away place.

Brock shrugged. "I mean, the divorce was more of an adjustment than having two moms. It was all strange for a while but just like everything it became normal too."

Travis nodded. "True." He settled lower towards the ground, closing his eyes and tugging the baseball cap lower onto his forehead. "My sister give you any good tips for songwriting?"

"More than I can count," Brock said but Bailey's assistance had been helpful.

These past days working with Bailey had been more than Brock had ever anticipated. Not only was she incredibly gracious and humble, the natural talent she had astonished Brock a little. She knew how to craft music, that was for sure, and didn't try to overcomplicate things. Bailey stuck to good, strong melodies and memorable lyrics whether they be for a ballad or something punchy and easy to dance to. Though she had a team she worked with on the arrangements and other instrumentals, it was clear that her mind was the bread and butter behind her award-winning music.

He reached for his guitar, removing it from the case alongside a notebook and a pen. "You don't mind if I play?"

"Thought that was the whole reason we came out here," Travis replied without opening his eyes.

Brock's lips twitched upwards at the wry tone but he didn't dare question if that was the only reason that Travis had brought him out here as he said, "Right."

For a while, Brock fiddled with his guitar. Occasionally, he scribbled lines of lyrics down in his notebook but he scratched them out more than he expanded upon the verse. Nothing seemed to flow right and he found himself struggling as he tried to write alone. Perhaps if Bailey or even Caroline had been with him, he'd have been able to come up with even a fraction of something decent but all he had were pages upon pages of utterly useless crap.

Of course, it was hard to concentrate with Travis lounging next to him. Over the better course of an hour, the cowboy hardly moved. He kept his eyes closed, hat drawn low, and though he breathed deep and evenly, Brock didn't think that Travis was sleeping. And with the midday sun shining down upon his handsome face, it was hard for Brock to keep his attention off of Travis and on the music he was trying and failing to write.

"I don't know how your sister does this," he mused after a while. "She makes it seem so effortless."

"Now you know why Jake and I never even tried to pick up music as a hobby. Even when we were kids, Bailey was so damned good at it all that he and I never saw a point to trying to keep up with her." Travis' deep voice came softly, little more than a murmur. He still didn't open his eyes but he turned his head a little toward the direction of where Brock was sitting.

"It was easier when my label just handed me music to play."

"Isn't that a bit of a cop-out?"

"A lot of people in the industry have artists who write their music for them. Some people are just good performers and stink at the creative writing bit. I'm starting to think that I fall into that category." Brock pursed his lips and glared at his notebook smeared with pointless ink.

Travis tilted his head back a little, those dark brown eyes opening to slits. "How long have you been trying to write your own music?"

"Since I started working with Bailey when I got here."

"And that's what? Four or five days? Beating yourself up a bit harshly for someone who's never done this before. You didn't think that Bailey became an award-winning singer-songwriter overnight, did you?"