Broken Strings

Twenty

"How so?"

"Well, I'm not college-bound – academia was never my strong suit – and there's nowhere in the world for me to go outside of this town except the rodeo. Don't get me wrong, Tishomingo...I love it here. It's home and I never felt the desire to leave as my sister did with her music. Hell, I'll probably end up working the land on my family's ranch until the day I bite the dust."

"You don't think you'll ever leave this town?"

"Where would I go?"

Brock glanced towards the nearby creek. It was a good question and one he didn't have an answer to. Sure, Brock had seen a lot of places but his experiences were mostly confined to concert stadiums. He'd only ever lived in L.A. and Nashville. He was hardly the expert on where to go in the whole wide world of options.

"I don't know," he said. "Though it does seem like you've got a pretty good life out here. I didn't know a place could be so calm." Brock gestured with a hand to the nature that surrounded them. Birds sang nearby and with the sound of trickling water...It was indeed calm that swept through his veins. "But just because something is nice and comfortable doesn't mean there's something better out there waiting for you."

"Maybe," Travis conceded and when he turned his head forward again, watching the water moving steadily, Brock took the moment to study him.

There was something a little...sad about the middle Grant sibling. Something quieter and subdued compared to Bailey's light exuberance and Jake's solid confidence. As if Travis was the overlooked one. Or perhaps that wasn't the right word.

The steady one.

Simple on the surface – the kind of man who competed in rodeos and worked on a ranch but had no dreams of city lights or medicine like his siblings – but there was a complexity that weighed heavily in the set of Travis's shoulders and the shrewdness in his gaze.

Brock wondered if anyone else ever noticed Travis's sharp intelligence or if he just existed in the box of his family's expectations. Never pushed beyond the borders of this town because that drive had been handed to his siblings and skipped over him entirely. Brock didn't doubt that it was because Travis had been the one to bolster them up.

And now he was here. Sitting on the bank of a creek with an expression that seemed a little lost.

There was a part of Brock that wished he knew what could be said in a moment like this but he didn't have the words to chase away that emptiness so he only murmured, "At least you've got Ginger. Maybe there's a place you two can go together or is she as tied down to this place as you seem to think you are?"

"Ginger would leave in a heartbeat if she had the money. That's why she's working at the diner in town. She told me once that her goal after graduating high school was to go to college for art but that was four years ago and she's still here so...Maybe she and I will be in Tishomingo forever."

There wasn't the enthusiasm in his voice that Brock was expecting. In fact, the look that crossed Travis' face seemed panicky and dread-filled more than anything.

Brock had seen that look before. Had worn it himself years ago before—

He stared a little harder at Travis, thinking, debating...Brock had convinced himself it wasn't possible. That there wasn't a chance that this man – who was as country as they came, a rodeo cowboy and rancher who was all shades of tall, dark, and handsome – could be gay. It hadn't crossed his mind really, not seriously in any case. Perhaps in a daydreamy sort of way, which was to be expected given the rugged appeal Travis exuded, but he hadn't really given it much real thought.

The Travis who was looking anywhere than at Brock's face right then sure seemed like he could be. Brock had been perpetually terrified of the world until he'd come out to his parents and that look of dread that Travis wore...Brock had worn it every time his friends had mentioned girls they thought were attractive or his parents tried to pry into his dating life.

It was an effort to swallow and clamp down on the thoughts lest they race across his face. "Well," Brock heard himself saying, "she seems great. There are worse people out there to find yourself stuck in a place like this with."

"Ain't that the truth," Travis said and as he smiled, that dread disappeared. It was replaced by something lighter, easier, and Brock half-convinced himself that he'd made it up. That he was just seeing what he wanted to see on Travis' face because he thought that the cowboy was deeply attractive and it was clouding his judgement.

Entirely possible. He hardly knew this man.

Yet he wanted to know him. Wanted to get closer and if they hadn't been at risk of being spotted by people swimming in the creek, Brock might have very well done that. Might have scooted towards to Travis and leaned in just to see how he might have reacted.

The risk was too high because if he was wrong about Travis – there was no telling what that could do. Brock had worked hard to keep his personal life private and out of the public eye, a challenge lately given all of the shit going on with Trace Strickland, and so taking a chance on someone like Travis – someone who could go to the media and bare all about Brock if he truly wanted – was daunting.

Better to not risk anything...Even though Brock had to force himself not to look at Travis' lips or stare into those soulful dark eyes.

But as Travis went back to quietly dozing on the ground and Brock once again reached for his guitar, the lyrics formed in his mind.

You can't miss what you never had, but it doesn't mean the wanting for it just goes away.