Chapter Twenty-Three
Finn
By the time they finished their ride and handed the horses back, Finn felt lighter than he had in months. Maybe years. The sun was higher now, warming the back of his neck as they walked toward the ranch’s gravel driveway to wait for the cab Maurice had called.
Maurice stood close beside him, their arms brushing every few steps. Finn didn’t think Maurice was doing it on purpose, but he also didn’t think he wasn’t.
The cab pulled up, and they climbed in. The mountains faded behind them as they headed back toward the city.
He kept replaying the morning in his head—Maurice’s hand on his wrist, the way he’d said, “You will,” when Finn mentioned wanting to see his home.
Everything seemed magical, in the most delightful way.
When the train station came into view, a little pang of disappointment washed over Finn. He didn’t want the morning to end and Maurice must’ve sensed it.
“We still have lots of time together on the train,” Maurice said. “Four hours was generous.”
Finn smiled. “Yeah. Riding horses was a fun idea.”
Maurice looked pleased with himself. “I’m full of good ideas.”
They walked across the platform together, the train looming tall and silver beside them. People were milling around, stretching their legs, grabbing snacks, taking pictures. Maurice’s hand brush Finn’s again, and this time Finn reached out and caught it.
Maurice looked down at their joined hands like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d been holding Finn’s hand for years instead of days. The train behind them gleamed in the sun, all rainbow stripes and glossy metal, practically begging to be photographed.
Maurice lifted their hands slightly. “Want to take a picture of us by the train?”
Finn nodded, surprised but instantly warm at the idea. “Yeah. Definitely.”
Maurice let go just long enough to pull his camera from his bag, an actual camera, not a phone. Finn shouldn’t have been surprised; Maurice seemed like the type who appreciated real lenses, real weight, real moments.
Maurice stepped back a few feet, scanning the angle like he was sizing up a courtroom argument. “Stand right there,” he said, pointing Finn toward a spot where the rainbow paint curved around the door. “The light’s good.”
Finn laughed. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
“I have,” Maurice said, already adjusting the focus. “Hold still.”
Finn tried, but he couldn’t help smiling when Maurice lifted the camera. Something about the way Maurice looked at him through the lens—steady, intent, almost soft—made it impossible not to.
Maurice snapped a few shots, then walked over and nudged Finn’s shoulder with his own. “Okay. Now one together.”
He held the camera out, arm extended, and Finn stepped in close, their shoulders pressed tight. Maurice’s cheek brushed Finn’s temple as he angled the shot. Finn could smell his cologne—clean, warm, a little woodsy—and it made his stomach flip.
Maurice clicked the shutter. “Got it.”
They took a few more with Maurice’s phone too. He loved the one with Finn leaning into him, one with Maurice laughing because Finn said something stupid on purpose, one where their hands were still linked and neither of them bothered to hide it.
“I’ll send them to you when I can transfer them, but will send the ones from the phone.”
Finn watched him scroll through the shots, selecting the best ones. A second later, Finn’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
Maurice glanced up. “Check your messages.”
Finn opened them and saw the photos—bright, warm, the rainbow train behind them, the two of them pressed close like they belonged there. His chest tightened in the best way.
“These are really good,” Finn said.
Maurice shrugged, but his eyes softened. “You made them good.”
Finn looked up at him, sunlight catching in Maurice’s hair, the train humming behind them, their hands drifting together again without either of them thinking about it.
And for a moment, Finn didn’t care where the train was going or how long they had. He just cared that Maurice was standing right there with him.
They boarded the train, stepping into the cool, familiar hallway. The car was quiet with most passengers still outside. Finn felt the shift immediately with the soft hum of the train, the narrow corridor, the sense of being in their own little world again. Maurice didn’t let go of his hand.
“About visiting,” Maurice said as they walked toward their rooms. “There’s a lot we could do. I could take you riding on the trails behind the house. We could camp by the lake. There’s a spot where the stars look close enough to touch.”
Finn’s heart did that fluttery thing again. “That sounds amazing.”
“We could cook together,” Maurice added. “Or I could cook for you. I make a decent breakfast.”
Finn laughed. “I’d like that.”
“And we can go to some of the gay clubs in the city,” Maurice continued. “Good coffee shops, a bookstore you’d like, a bakery that makes the best cinnamon rolls. I want to show you everything.”
Finn slowed a little, their hands still linked. “I want to go. I really do.”
Maurice turned toward him, brows lifting. “But?”
Finn swallowed. “Our jobs. Schedules. Life. I don’t know how easy it’ll be to make it happen. I don’t want to promise something and then… not be able to follow through.”
Maurice’s expression softened. “I get that.”
Finn looked down at their hands. “If only we lived closer.”
Maurice stepped closer, close enough that Finn could feel the heat of him. “We don’t have to figure everything out today,” he said gently. “But wanting something is a good start.”
Finn looked up, meeting his eyes. “I do want it.”
Maurice smiled—slow, certain, the kind of smile that made Finn’s chest feel too full. “Good. Because I do too.”
They stood there in the quiet hallway, the train humming softly beneath them, the morning sun slanting through the windows. Finn didn’t know what the next week would bring, or what would happen after San Francisco, or how complicated real life might get.
But right then, with Maurice’s hand warm in his, he let himself believe it could work. Maybe wanting it was enough for now.
Finn and Maurice ended up stretched out on the narrow bed in Maurice’s room, the train humming softly beneath them.
It wasn’t a big bed—barely enough space for one person, let alone two—but Finn didn’t mind.
Maurice’s shoulder pressed against his, their legs tangled loosely, and the closeness felt easy.
Natural. Like they’d been doing this for years.
Maurice traced slow lines along Finn’s forearm with the back of his fingers, not really thinking about it, just touching him because he could. Finn leaned into it, letting his head rest lightly against Maurice’s shoulder.
“You know,” Maurice said quietly, “I like this. Just… being here with you.”
Finn smiled at the ceiling. “Me too.”
Maurice shifted, turning slightly so he could see Finn’s face. “You make this whole trip better.”
Finn’s chest warmed. “You make it feel… safe. And exciting. At the same time.”
Maurice brushed a thumb along Finn’s cheek, gentle and warm. “Good.”
Finn covered Maurice’s hand with his own, holding it there. “I like being close to you.”
Maurice’s expression softened. “Then stay close.”
Finn didn’t need convincing.
They stayed like that—quiet, touching, sharing small smiles—until the intercom crackled overhead.
“Attention passengers,” Mr. Santos announced. “We will be stopping for twenty minutes in Reno, Nevada. Please welcome the new people boarding. And tonight, there will be a dance in the Lounge Car until midnight.”
Finn’s stomach dropped a little. He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Maurice… I don’t think I want to go to the dance.”
Maurice propped himself on an elbow. “Why not?”
“I don’t know how to act,” Finn admitted. “I’m afraid people will ask me to dance. I don’t want that. I only want to be with you.”
Maurice’s expression softened immediately. He sat up too, knee touching Finn’s. “Hey. You don’t have to dance with anyone you don’t want to.”
Finn looked down at his hands. “I just… I don’t want to mess anything up.”
Maurice nudged his shoulder gently. “What if we wear our matching shirts? The black ones.”
Finn blinked. “Matching shirts?”
Maurice grinned. “Yeah. Then if someone asks you to dance, you can just say you’re taken.”
Finn’s breath caught. “Taken?”
Maurice shrugged, casual but not really. “If you want to be.”
Finn’s cheeks warmed. “I do.”
Maurice’s smile turned softer, warmer. “Good. Then we’ll go together. And if you’re still worried…” He reached for Finn’s hand again. “We can dance all night. Just us. No one else.”
Finn let out a slow breath, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I’d like that.”
Maurice squeezed his hand. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
The train began to slow as they approached Reno, the room filling with the soft shift of motion. Finn leaned into Maurice again, letting the moment settle around them. He wasn’t worried anymore. Not with Maurice beside him.