Brock

Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth – Henry David Thomas

The song was nearly finished, so much so that Bailey had brought in a technician for the booth and her house band so they could record. They started with the rhythm section so Brock sat with Bailey and Caroline, listening as the drums and the bass played the whole song through. Bailey, Brock soon realized, was somewhat of a perfectionist when it came to the music she created. The laid-back carefree attitude was quickly replaced by a determine and seasoned musician who knew exactly what she wanted.

Brock had to admit, it was interesting to watch Bailey work. For while she joked around with her bandmates and Caroline, she wasn't afraid to give direction so that the sound in her head was realized.

That was his first clue, once he'd hopped into the booth hours after they'd begun to record his part, that she was annoyed with him. She gave him more notes than any of the others, sometimes having to repeat herself two or even three times. Brock hated himself a little for not getting it right, especially because he couldn't seem to get his head in the game. It wandered across the rolling hills and land that lined Oklahoma though his mind wasn't really that far away.

In fact, it stretched only as far as the neighbouring ranch.

He had not heard from Travis in the hours that had passed since Brock had so stupidly kissed the man. Not a single text or call or sighting – though if Brock were being honest, it was wishful thinking that made him hope that Travis would show up here while he was working with Bailey.

But perhaps Travis had no inclination to see him. Perhaps last night was the last time he'd ever lay eyes on the cowboy.

And for some reason, that thought made Brock entirely sick to his stomach.

"Let's try that bit again, Brock," Bailey said through the intercom. He sent her a thumb's up and repeated the line into the mic. When the music cut, he watched as she lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she whispered something to Caroline, the edge of her grimace just barely peeking out from behind her fingers. "One more time."

It took another two times before she was satisfied and then she announced suddenly that he could take fifteen minutes as they worked through a technical issue. Since the technician she'd brought seemed surprised at the announcement, Brock surmised that the break was meant for him. To get his head on straight and come back better.

Brock quickly departed for the door, desperate for fresh air to clear his brain. He reached for his phone and thought about calling his mom as he rounded into the hallway and raced for the front door and sunshine beyond. She was the one he always liked to turn to in a crisis. Of all his family members, she was the boulder in a hurricane, immoveable and strong. Nothing really ever shook her.

He punched in her contact information, his finger hovering over the call button, as he shoved the screen door open.

"Hey," a deep voice said and Brock's phone slipped from his hand, falling with a clatter onto the wooden planks of the porch. He glanced up, stunned to see Travis Grant standing on the lawn.

Travis' hands were shoved into his pockets and he rocked back onto his heels. Brock couldn't read the expression upon his face but there was something that made him take a small step forward. Made him forget the phone that had clattered to the ground and the call he'd been about to make.

Made him forget everything, in fact, except for this man.

"Hi," Brock said and swallowed. "I, um, I need to apolog—"

"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?"

"I don't know," Travis admitted. Yet he didn't pull away either.

They didn't speak for a few moments. Just stood there in the woods, sharing the same space.

Finally, Brock went for honesty to break the awkwardness that was slowly creeping in. "I haven't been able to get you out of my head. Not just after last night but...for a while."

Travis finally raised his eyes and the brown was so dark and soft and open that Brock's breath caught in his throat. "Is that true?"

"I wouldn't lie. Not about something like this."

"If I'm being honest, you've been living rent-free in my head. Ever since my sister's stupid dinner party...I see your face when I close my eyes, hear your voice in my sleep. I can't seem to rid myself of you, Brock. No matter what I do, you're always there. And then last night..."

Brock stepped closer. Just a few inches but something electric sparked the closer they stood. He focused on Travis' eyes, marking every slight change in hue that made up the deep brown of his irises. "Last night," he whispered.

"When you kissed me."

"When I kissed you."

"How did you know?" Travis asked then. "Really know about me and Sam?"

"It wasn't you," Brock said. "It was Sam. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you. There was too much in his face to be unrequited love. Maybe not love. That's not the right word. Lust, I guess. That's closer. Longing. And he looks at you like he's seen you naked," he added wryly.

Travis choked out a laugh, his face brightening with shock. "What?"

Brock chuckled alongside him. "It's true! Every time he thought you weren't looking, he was staring at you. Then I got to see him turn away like he was jealous when every time you broke eye contact with him, you turned to look at me."

That was part of the reason Brock had kissed Travis the other night. Not just because he'd been enamoured by him since the moment they'd met. Not because the man was kind and funny and was infinitely more capable of than he even believed. No, he'd kissed him because Travis had kept turning away from Sam and turning towards Brock.

He didn't know if it had been a conscious thing or not on Travis' part but each time their eyes had met, his heart had skipped a beat. His breathing had hitched. And then he'd just known, completely, irrevocably, that Travis was interested in him.  

"I did," Travis admitted. "I looked to you."

"Why?"

Say it, Brock thought. Just say that you're interested in me too. I know you are. Say it.

"Because I like looking at you. More than that I like how you look at me."

"And how do I look at you?"

He watched as Travis' throat bobbed. "You look at me and I-I feel seen."

"I do see you. Each time we've talked and joked and laughed, I see you."

They were close enough that he got to see the shame race across Travis' face, less than an inch separating them. It was chased by regret and even a hint of disgust.

A flare of shock pulsed through Brock's chest because he couldn't quite fathom why–

"Ginger," Travis said then, pulling back slightly just before their lips could touch. "I'm with Ginger."

"You're gay," Brock replied and then because he wasn't entirely sure, added, "Or bi?"

Travis continued as if he hadn't heard him. He stepped back, nearly stumbling over a tree root. "I can't—I can't do this. I'm sorry."

"You said you can't stop thinking about me and I feel the same about you. Is that untrue" Brock lifted his brows in a challenging stare.

"No, of course it's not true but – it doesn't matter. I'm with Ginger and you'll be leaving in a few days."

Brock strode forward, once again closing the distance between them. "Would it matter if I wasn't leaving? Would that change things?"

For a moment, cold fear raced across Travis' face. "No," he whispered. "It wouldn't change things. You—you can be gay in Los Angeles. It's different than here. There's plenty of good people in my town. Plenty who wouldn't give a shit, I think. But there's plenty who would – not just here but on the circuit. When you're in my line of work..."

"Yet you have Sam."

"You don't know anything about me and Sam."

"Enlighten me."

Brock thought Travis might decline but then he exhaled long and slow, and then he slumped onto a nearby tree stump. "We met on the circuit a while back and that's where we kept it. On the circuit. We don't meet, we don't talk, we don't do anything with each other unless we're face to face. Nobody knows. Hell, Sam is getting married to a lovely woman for Christ's sake."

Brock frowned at that new information. "So the two of you are just living a lie?"

Travis looked up sharply. "You think I don't feel like an asshole for what Sam and I are? The fact that he and I are together in shitty motel rooms

"Aren't you? I don't see you being out and loud and proud."

"How do you know that?" Brock paused, peering at Travis' face which held just the slightest hint of shame. "Did you Google me?"

"Of course I did. After you kissed me, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't—couldn't do anything but think about you so I searched you up. And what I saw is a guy who has never been linked – ever – to another guy. You've only had girlfriends—"

"Publicity stunts," Brock replied. "Just because I keep it from my professional life—"

"That's what I'm doing too."

Brock snapped, "It's different. My family knows. My friends know. It's only a secret to the people, like my fans, who aren't involved in every aspect of my life. I think the fact that you're admitting to sneaking around with a man who is engaged is the biggest tell. You don't want your family or friends to know."

Travis lurched to his feet. "You're right. I don't. Not now, maybe not ever. And even if I did tell them, what would be the point? I'd tell them and I'd be floundering alone in an ocean of my own design. Sam won't leave his fiancé and you—hell, even if there was something happening between us, it wouldn't last. You're going back to L.A. and I can't risk my entire life on a fling. I can't, Brock. I'm sorry and I don't know what you were hoping to hear from this but..."

The sting of rejection flared through Brock's vein but then he found himself pausing, considering those words. What had he been hoping to hear? Yes, they were both attracted to each other, that much was clear, but Travis was right. Brock was leaving in a few days. He hadn't yet picked the date but...he wouldn't be staying here forever. And he could not pretend for a moment that they had made the sort of connection that could span the distance between Oklahoma and California, not to mention trump the relationship Travis had with Ginger. He liked Travis – wanted Travis – but beyond that?

Even Brock didn't know if this attraction between them even had the capability of developing into anything further.

"I'm sorry," Travis said. "But last night was a mistake. I hope you finish your song."

Then get out of my life, were the unspoken words Brock thought Travis hadn't bothered to say.

And before Brock could even attempt to formulate a response, Travis was gone, leaving him alone in the trees.