Broken Strings

Twenty-Three

"Don't," Travis said. "It's okay."

"It's not. I shouldn't have—"

"Really," Travis repeated, more firmly this time, and his eyes flicked to the screen door nervously. He bounced on his toes a little, a nervous tick. "Don't."

"Okay..."

They stared at each other a moment and then Travis gestured to a nearby woodlot, filled with towering pines and lush green bushes. "Can we take a walk? I know you're recording with Bailey today but...I'd like to talk. If that's okay."

Brock forced himself to nod and then bent to retrieve his phone. "I'll let Bailey know I need a longer break."

Travis didn't wait a moment longer and turned on his heel to stride in the direction of the a small copse of trees to the left as Brock fiddled with his phone. Nausea roiled in his gut as they walked in a silence that both of them refused to break. Travis seemed to know where he was going, had a specific spot in mind, and so Brock followed obediently.

He watched as Travis hopped over a log and a lump formed in his throat. Brock hated to admit it because he felt that he really shouldn't have been staring, but Travis Grant had one spectacular ass. It was an effort to avert his eyes as he followed Travis over the log but he did so, instead focusing on the muscles lining Travis' broad shoulders.

Which, he also had to admire, were perfectly sculpted as well.

Travis led them on for about five minutes, not stopping until the house had mostly disappeared from view, just the corner of the porch visible from where Brock stood within the treeline. Then, Travis turned and loosed a slow shaky breath.

"So," he said. And fell silent.

"So," Brock repeated and quirked an eyebrow. Waiting because this was not his discussion to control. He'd quite possibly crossed a line. A line that had a sister Brock respected very much, and all of that wasn't even to mention a girlfriend.

Not for the first time, Brock marvelled at the level of shit he'd managed to land himself in.

It took a moment for Travis to speak and then he started, "About last night..."

The words died in his mouth and all Brock could see was the column of Travis' mouth bobbing as he swallowed.

"Don't worry about it," Brock cut in with forced smoothness as he bent to sit on the stump of a cut-down tree. "I shouldn't have done it. I'd been drinking a bit and my inhibitions were...well let's just say they were lower than I normally let them get. I shouldn't have kissed you—"

"I was glad you did."  The ground felt as if it shuddered beneath Brock's feet with that admission and he stared open-mouthed at Travis as the man continued on a ramble, pacing back and forth as he went. "You caught me off guard, I wasn't expecting it and I didn't know that you were – I mean, I had wondered, speculated a little...No, hoped a little that you were...like me. But I didn't really expect...I had wanted you to but it's all so—"

Brock reached out and grabbed onto Travis' wrist, halting both the pacing and the rambling. "You sound like you need to take a minute. Or perhaps have a shot of liquor to calm you down."

Travis only stared at where Brock gripped him and suddenly his entire body seemed to slump, releasing some long-held stress and anxiety. "You did that last night too. Touched my wrist and grounded me in my place."

Brock blinked and his eyes dropped to where he'd linked himself to the other man. He could feel Travis' pulse beating calmly, steadily, as Travis seemed to relax. "Is that a good thing?"