Broken Strings

Twenty-One

Travis swallowed a lump in his throat and opened the door to his truck, wincing at the groan the hinges gave. "Hey," he called, hoping that his voice didn't betray his excitement at seeing Brock again even if he knew it was pointless. Brock Mason wasn't here for him. He was here for Bailey except—

Travis did a quick survey of the lot, making sure he hadn't missed Bailey's little silver Honda Civic.

Not here. Brock had come alone.

The lump in his throat returned. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd come see what all the fuss was about," Brock said, pushing away from the wall and cutting across the lot to meet Travis midway. "Your sister couldn't stop talking about this. Made it sound like it I couldn't miss coming to see it if I was here."

"The events don't start for another couple of hours."

"Bailey said you always get here early. Something about brooding in your truck. Thought I'd come and keep you company"

"I don't brood."

Brock grinned, flashing those bright white teeth. "Your tone says otherwise, Travis."

Travis' brow furrowed and he tried to ignore the way that sparks shot through his stomach. Brock had come specifically to see him. Somehow, this was much more nerve wracking than his upcoming events.

"Well, I can show you around the grounds if you want. Most people, including my family, will likely start showing up in an hour or so. You can find seats with them if you intend to stick around, though you might get swarmed. Lots of country music fans in these parts and while Bailey gets the courtesy of being from here and people mostly leave her alone, I find it unlikely that courtesy will extend to you."

"I'll take my chances," Brock said.

"What about Jay? Is he coming too?"

"Nah, he had plans. Something about a nature reserve. Of the two of us, he's the more likely one to attract a crowd."

"Fair enough."

Without discussing further, Travis began to lead Brock through the rodeo grounds. He pointed out his favourite food trucks, where the commentators and judges sat for scoring, and where they kept the animals before and during events. Travis even took him as close as they could get towards one of the fields where some of the bulls waited to be brought in for the bull riding in the afternoon. Their horns glinted in the early morning light, tapering to a sharp point.

"Noah rides those things?"

"Used to. Crazy, right?"

"He seems so level-headed and calm," Brock said, his eyes wide and focused on one particularly large white and brown bull who stared at them with dark eyes. The bull huffed, smoke curling from its nostrils. "Doesn't seem to be the sort to climb on the back of a bull."

"Yeah, yeah, just wait until you see him start to lose at cards. You'll see the level-headedness go right out the window."

Brock laughed, his eyes lighting, and Travis found his own smile widening as they turned back for the parking lot. Enough time had passed that cars and trucks were starting to pile in, the most desirable spots already taken up.

They paused next to Travis' truck as he gathered his gear for the day, feeling lighter and more ready for his events than his usual decompression routine in his truck accomplished.