Travis

Being brave isn't the absence of fear. Being brave is having that fear but finding a way through it – Bear Grylls

It was hot and humid at the fairgrounds in Austin. Hotter and humider, still, inside of the arena where the bronc event was taking place later in the afternoon. Part of the heat was due to the sheer amount of people packed inside of the arena, squashed in like sardines in a can. They were a boisterous crowd, hooting and hollering as cowboys wrestled steer to the ground.

That event had taken up half of the arena for the entire morning. Often, cheers and clapping followed each run but Travis knew well enough how to pick out the sounds of a wrestle that hadn't gone well. He hadn't seen anyone being carted out on a stretcher yet though, so he was considering that to mean that the day had been successful.

Travis had never seen the appeal of steer wrestling. Too many horns that could stick you in a bad spot. It was why he'd never been attracted to bull riding, either. As far as he was concerned, it took a special kind of stupid to hop atop a raging bull and try to ride it.

His sister's boyfriend, Noah Hartley, was a former professional bull rider and had retired a year and a half earlier. He'd gone out on top, winning the PBR World Championship in Las Vegas before calling it quits. Noah could still be persuaded to join Travis on the circuit for a few events each year but those were mostly of the roping variety.

The way Travis figured it, broncs didn't hold much of a challenge for Noah Hartley. Sure, the animals moved differently and reaction times weren't the same. But jumping onto the back of a bucking bronco was a hell of a lot saner than riding a bull. That wasn't to say that broncs were animals to ride. No, it was just as physically demanding and riders were still easily injured. At the very least, Travis was able to avoid getting impaled on the horn of a raging bull by saddling up a bronc instead of climbing atop a bull as Noah once had.

Even retirement hadn't kept Noah from the bulls entirely. He'd gone from retirement to coaching with surprising ease and students flocked from all over to sign up for a coveted spot at the Tishomingo Rodeo School that Noah co-owned with a long-time Tishomingo local Dwayne Stannard. The number of pupils vying for Noah's attention had tripled after his world champion title and so between coaching and looking after his own ranch, Noah hardly had time to breathe, much less join Travis on the circuit.

Sometimes, when he wanted company, Travis talked Jake or Stephen or his father into coming with him. Jake used to be more willing before he'd gone and gotten engaged. Like Noah, Jake was often strapped for time – scheduling cake tastings and visits with the florist around his work at the vet clinic and finishing his studies.

Then there was Stephen. Once, Stephen had eagerly engaged with the rodeo circuit, travelling across the country with Travis to compete in events near and far. And then he'd gotten hurt, breaking his back in two places and shattering his left leg in one fell swoop.

Though Stephen had been more than lucky. After surgeries and extensive physical therapy, he'd managed to regain most of his mobility back. If it wasn't for the limp in his leg and the way he always seemed a bit stiffer on rainy days, it might even go unnoticed.

But the injuries had sidelined Stephen. One bad fall and he could find himself paralyzed, or so the doctors said. It was a risk that he wasn't willing to take however much he might want to. Occasionally, when Stephen was feeling reckless, he could be convinced to team up for a roping event but there was no denying to anyone that Stephen's days on the broncs were gone. Travis knew that whenever Stephen was relegated to watching his former colleagues complete from the sidelines, it broke something inside of him a little bit.

Which left Rob. The rodeo was a second home for Travis' father but his age had slowly begun to catch up with him. He was still young by many standards but the years competing on the circuit had brought about arthritis pains and stiffness that locked up his joints whenever he spent too long in the car or in a saddle. It was rare now that Rob joined his son on an extended road trip and sometimes Travis pined for those early days he'd spent on the circuit with his father, brother, and best friend by his side.

Now Travis was the only one left. The last lone defender.

Sometimes, Travis didn't mind being the last one still travelling around on the rodeo circuit. He liked the freedom of it – how competing gave him the option to leave town for a bit. He hadn't done much travelling over his life unless one counted being on the circuit, which Travis only barely did. He'd seen more fairgrounds and arenas than he could count but he never hit the major tourist spots in the cities that he visited.

Travis had only ever left the country twice and both times were to compete in rodeos in Alberta, Canada. He'd never even stepped foot onto a plane. Hadn't had a reason to since everywhere he went was within driving range. Especially if he had to bring Fabio – his twelve-year-old chestnut and flaxen-coloured quarter horse – along for the trip, as he so often did when travelling to events.

The driving was often quiet, long hours Travis spent with only his thoughts for company. Occasionally he turned on the radio where, every once in a while, Bailey's voice filtered through to him like a comforting signal from home.

Though he'd always been closer with Jake than his little sister, there was no denying to Travis that Bailey was his favourite member of the family. Perhaps it was because she was the youngest and so he'd always felt the need to look out for her. Or maybe it was because she'd spent so many years in Nashville that it had just been easy to miss her. Now that she'd moved her recording studio to Noah's house, Travis rarely went more than a few days without seeing Bailey. She was usually home again before he had the chance to truly miss her.

If Travis were being honest with himself, Bailey was his favourite because she was the best of them all. She had their father's strength, their mother's kindness, Jake's intelligence, and Travis' wit. And something else all her own – a sort of inner grit and determination, a drive to do better and be better every day of her life.

Sometimes, Travis was jealous of that grit and determination. The self-assurances that Bailey had. If only because Travis didn't have it for himself.

The way that Bailey was able to stand before thousands of people on a stage and lay her soul bare for all to see was a foreign concept to Travis. He'd never been that comfortable in his own skin. Not the way that his little sister was.

Perhaps that's what he was most jealous of. More so than the grit and determination. But that ability that she had to be exactly who she was and put it out into the world without a second thought or care. There were no secrets in Bailey's life that she worried about the paparazzi finding out.

Travis didn't have that sort of confidence. Or, more accurately, he had secrets that he didn't want the rest of the world to know. One secret specifically that, if it got out, could ruin his life. A secret he had been trying almost his entire life to hide.

From the side of the arena, Travis watched as the rodeo workers transitioned from the steer wrestling to the saddle bronc event – his event – that was set to be starting in just over half an hour now. The broncs were just beginning to be led out to the chutes. He watched for the bronc he'd drawn for the first round – a feisty ten-year-old American quarter horse named Widow's Wail – but couldn't catch a glimpse of the pure white coat or mane.

"Hey, Grant!"

Travis turned, watching as a stocky and broad-shouldered man strode towards him. A familiar face with a wide happy smile, though he was not someone that Travis knew overly well. Ethan Cooke had been a competitor of Travis' for years on the bronc circuit before they'd landed on friendly terms.

The only reason Travis even knew Ethan was through Noah. Before moving to Oklahoma, Noah had lived in Texas in the same town of Wichita Falls where Ethan still resided. The pair had grown up as close friends, practically family, and Ethan had visited Tishomingo enough times now that Travis had gotten to know the man on a deeper level than just his name.

"Hi, Ethan. Should've known you'd be here."

Ethan grinned. "Of course I am. Austin is in Wichita Falls' backyard."

Travis blinked at him. "It's really not. Wichita Falls is closer to Tishomingo than it is to Austin."

"Semantics." Ethan waved that away, his green eyes bright in the fluorescence of the arena. "It's all Texas. That's what matters."

"How've you been?"

"Good, good. Did you hear Donnal MacRae is going to be out the whole season this year? Poor guy got in a car wreck two weeks ago. He'll make a full recovery but they say he's pretty banged up."

Travis swore. "No, I hadn't heard...Does it make me a bad person if I say I'm a little happy he's not competing? He's my stiffest competition."

Ethan said, "Aside from yours truly, I take it?"

"Nope. That's including you, Cooke," Travis replied, but his words were light. Teasing. And when he caught Ethan's eye, they both chuckled.

"Nice. That's real friendly of you, Grant. I'll have to tell your sister that you're being mean to me the next time I pop around for a visit."

"Knowing Bailey, she'll make fun of you more than I will."

"You're probably right."

They shared a laugh just as a few of their other competitors began appearing around them, preparing for the event ahead. Travis knew most of them by name and face, and a few he knew more intimately than that. People who'd been touring the circuit along with him for years now that he might even consider friends outside of the arena.

It was a strong showing of guys and many did well that day. Travis watched competitor after competitor make the eight-second mark and the scores were pretty good. Only two missed the mark out in the first round, dropping their feet from above the bronc's shoulders on the first jump out of the bucking shoot, and were immediately disqualified.

Travis's ride on Widow's Wail went about as well as he could have hoped for. He scored a forty-five-point-five out of a possible fifty points. The bronc was similarly scored at forty-one points, giving Travis a first-round total of eighty-six-point-five. It landed him in the top of five alongside Ethan and Graham Castillo – another rider hailing from Tishomingo.

They had only a short break before the second round started where they went in the order of their rankings from worst to best. Travis, currently in fourth, was the fourth-last to go. He and Ethan, sitting in second, watched from the sidelines as their competitors and colleagues entered the ring.

"Where are you staying in Austin?" Ethan asked.

"Uh, the Quick Stop Motel. You?"

"Same here. A few other guys are there too. I was chatting with Sam Kline and Randy Carlson and we're gonna meet up in Sammy's room tonight for a couple of beers if you want to join in."

Travis nodded. "Sure, that sounds great."

"Of course, if you beat me today that offer gets rescinded." Ethan shoved Travis' shoulder, a broad grin stretching his lips.

"You're hilarious." Travis rolled his eyes but didn't have the time to add anything else to the conversation before he had to go get ready for his ride.

He made his way over to the chute he'd be emerging from, lugging his gear as he went. The bronc, a gelding named Making Chaos, was already waiting for him. It took only a few moments to get the bronc ready with Travis's stock saddle. He attached his rope to the bronc's halter and waited for the sign to go.

Travis lingered, feeling bulky in his chaps and padded vest. It was a familiar feeling, though, and the waiting was routine. He knew what to expect with each passing second. Knew what he would do when his chute was opened.

It was easy for him to fall back into that routine. Perhaps Travis didn't always know where he fit in back home. With Jake stepping into a career and getting married, and Bailey a household name coupled with her relationship with Noah...Yes, it was easy for Travis to feel lost and confused and as if he were running a race and coming in last when compared to his siblings.

But not here. Not on the rodeo circuit and especially not with this bronc.

Travis slowly swung himself into the chute and onto the bronc's back. His boots slipped into the stirrups and he raised his feet above the bronc's shoulder. Travis wrapped a hand around the bronc rope and took a breath. Just one, a slow exhale to settle him.

And then the chute door swung open and Making Chaos was bucking wildly. The bronc's back legs kicked out as he jumped and slammed back down on the ground and, through it all, Travis held tight to that rope and kept his feet jammed tight into the stirrups. After the initial buck out of the chute, Travis lowered his feet from the horse's shoulders and allowed himself to flow with the bronc's unpredictable movements.

Sometimes the eight seconds could feel like one and other times it felt like an hour passed before the buzzer sounded. This was one of the former. Not necessarily an easy ride, not with Making Chaos twisting and turning so quickly that it was a conscious effort to stay atop the beast, but the time passed quickly.

When the buzzer did sound, it took only half a second for the handlers to reach his side and then Travis swung over onto the back of the handler's horse before sliding smoothly to the ground. As the handlers continued to lead the bronc out of the arena, Travis removed his hat and waved to the crowd. He waited on the sidelines for his score, pleased with the overall eighty-nine that he was awarded.

At the end of the day, when the riding was all done and the chips had fallen, he found himself in third behind only Ethan and a guy from Alberta. It was a solid showing that awarded Travis a decent payout and some points to add to his Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association standing.

Still, he was relieved to get back to the motel and take a hot shower. When the knots and aches had loosened from his back and shoulders, he stepped out of the steam and scalding water. By the time he'd dried off, gotten dressed, and watched the news for thirty minutes, Ethan had texted and invited him not just for beers but dinner as well.

Travis met Ethan, Sam, and Randy in the foyer and they went to a steakhouse up the road for a bite to eat. He didn't know Randy well but it was clear that he was good friends with Ethan and had known Noah as well. The man asked about Noah's current state and while Travis updated him on his general life in Tishomingo, it was Ethan who confided to the group that Noah was dating Travis's sister.

Sam, on the other hand, Travis had come across before. They'd met at various rodeos over the years and had even roped together a time or two in last-minute events. Though they weren't friends, exactly. Travis never spoke to Sam unless they were face-to-face. Couldn't risk the evidence of having Sam's number in his phone.

Once they'd finished eating, they relocated to Ethan's room where they continued on with the easy conversation imbued with laughter. They stayed for a bit, reclining across the beds and the worn armchair in the corner until they were all yawning and ready for sleep.

As he left, promising to see Ethan in the morning before they headed their separate ways, Travis watched Randy stumble across the hall to his bed. From there, he and Sam walked back to their separate rooms on the other side of the motel.

There was a sort of electricity that arose between them. A kinetic spark that made it hard for Travis to think straight or even remember to breathe. He didn't look at Sam and the other man sure as hell made it a point not to look at Travis.

At least, they tried not to look at each other until they reached their rooms. Sam's was the first they came across, two doors down and on the other side of the hall from Travis's.

Sam unlocked the room with his key and leaned against the wall, one foot keeping the door propped open. His eyes roved over Travis's face and Travis did the same, staring into Sam's brown eyes with an intensity that made heat bloom in his gut. Sam's light brown hair was slightly messed up from the plethora of times he'd run his fingers through it that night.

But Travis's eyes dropped to Sam's lips and lingered.

"You want to come in?" Sam asked, the words were barely a murmur in the dimly lit corridor. "Have another drink or...something?"

Something, Travis thought – the word edged with wry humour. They'd been doing something with each other for almost two years now. Not a relationship. Definitely not that. Hell, Sam was engaged to a lovely girl named Isabelle and Travis...He was with Ginger. But he cast the thought of her from his mind. They weren't serious. They were taking it slow and they'd never talked about being exclusive.

Besides, this thing with Sam would never go anywhere but here, ensconced within the walls of a motel room. The state changed sometimes but never the location. It was always a nondescript motel that hid from the world what they were to each other. Passion. Heat. Release.

Freedom.

Within the walls of the motel room, Travis could let go of the piece of him that was always locked away. And yet when he let go of that piece, other parts of him were contained instead.

His family's expectations.

The pressures of society.

Ginger's kind face.

All of it, locked up tight where the Travis who existed inside of the motel room couldn't access it to feel guilty. He just...existed here. Without pain. Without fear.

"Sure," Travis murmured, his voice a little hoarse. He swallowed as he walked into Sam's room. The click of the door shutting behind him, Sam inches away, set his blood on fire.

Yes, Travis had a secret. One that defied explanation or reason. One that he couldn't ignore in full, no matter how hard he tried. Travis Grant was gay.

And it scared the absolute shit out of him.