Chapter Twenty-Five
Maurice
The train had settled into its nighttime rhythm, a steady hum under everything and the occasional far-off whistle slicing through.
Maurice turned off the overhead light, leaving the small lamp by the bed glowing.
Finn lay beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched.
They stretched out on the narrow mattress as if they were learning how to share space in a new and strange way.
As Finn shifted onto his side, that sleepy closeness settled between them like a blanket. “I like us together at night.” Finn’s hand slid across the blanket until it found Maurice’s. Their fingers intertwined easily, as if they’d been doing it for years. “You make me feel… wanted.”
Maurice’s chest tightened in a warm, steady way. “You are wanted. By me.”
Finn scooted until their knees touched. “I want you. More than I expected to.”
Maurice lifted Finn’s hand and pressed a small kiss to his knuckles—slow, deliberate, nothing rushed. “Good,” he said. “Because I need you with me.”
They lay there for a moment, breathing in sync, the dim cabin lights flickering as the train slipped through patches of darkness. Finn’s thumb brushed over Maurice’s hand, hesitant but curious.
Then Finn asked, “If I… if you were—my Daddy boyfriend—what kind of rules would you have?”
Maurice was surprised but not thrown. “Rules?”
Finn nodded. “Yeah. Like… what would you expect from me? What would our relationship look like?”
Maurice took a second to settle his thoughts, watching the way Finn’s eyes widened. He didn’t want this to feel like a lecture or a contract; he just wanted to lay a foundation. He kept his touch light, relieved when Finn didn’t pull away.
“Look,” Maurice said. “I’ve only got five basic things I care about for us. The house stuff? We can figure that out as we go.”
He held up one finger, catching Finn’s gaze.
He wasn’t trying to be a cop; he just couldn’t stand the idea of something reckless taking Finn away from him.
“First off, I need you to stay away from the messy stuff—no illegal trouble, no substances that’ll wreck you.
I just want us both healthy and, more importantly, safe. ”
A second finger joined the first. Maurice shifted, thinking of how many people forgot the basics when life got heavy. “Second, I want you to actually be healthy. You don’t have to be perfect about it, but I need to know you’re taking care of yourself and keeping your strength up.”
He added a third finger to the count. This was the big one—the glue. “Third, let’s keep it real with each other. Just tell me the truth, even when it’s ugly or hurts to say. I can handle the truth, Finn.”
The fourth finger went up. He wanted something solid, something they could lean on when the world got shaky. “Fourth, just be faithful to what we’re doing here. To us. Let’s protect what we’re building.”
Finally, he held up his hand, all five fingers out, offering a small, encouraging smile. “And fifth—never hide what you’re feeling or what you need from me. Whether it’s a sandwich or a shoulder, just say it. I can’t look out for you the way I want to if I’m guessing in the dark.”
Finn swallowed, eyes shining in the dim light. “That’s… not what I expected.”
Maurice brushed his thumb along Finn’s cheek. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know,” Finn paused. “Something stricter. Something that might make me feel small.”
Maurice shook his head. “No. I don’t want you small. I want you safe. I want you to be happy. And most of all, I want you with me.”
“What happens if I break a rule?”
“We’ll make a chart at home with the house rules and consequences.”
“You’re going to let me help you write the rules and consequences?” Finn raised his eyebrows.
The question was personal, as if Finn were handing him something fragile and waiting to see how gently he’d hold it.
“This is our relationship, not just mine. I can always take more control if that’s what you want.”
The light in the train car slid over Finn’s face, catching the uncertainty in his eyes. Outside the window, streaks of passing lights slid across the walls. “Do you want me to take more control?”
Finn hesitated at first before he answered. “I don’t know.”
“Finn, rule five is for you to tell me what you need or want. Don’t be shy. Please.”
Finn looked down as if he were embarrassed. “I want you to take more control.”
Maurice let his eyes linger, checking that Finn wasn’t just saying what Maurice wanted to hear. Then he nodded, and something unspoken passed between them in the small, shared space. Finn rested his head on Maurice’s chest.
Maurice thought for a minute, then he said, “We’ll begin our relationship on the train.”
Finn smiled. “If I move in, it would be a gigantic step.”
“When and if you decide to move in, I’ll protect you and make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay?”
“So, you have the option to work if you wish, or you can go back to school if that’s your preference. I’ll be able to provide for all your needs.”
Finn’s eyes filled, and Maurice kept speaking. “If you ever change your mind and want to move out, I’ll make sure you’re never left without a home or money. You won’t be trapped. Ever.”
Finn’s first tear slipped down his cheek.
Maurice wiped it away with his thumb. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
Finn shook his head, voice breaking. “No one’s ever said anything like that to me.”
Maurice pulled him closer, stroking Finn’s hair against his chest. “Then let me be the first.” He kissed Finn on the top of his head.
“You seem too good to be true.”
“I’ll write a contract, so you don’t have to worry if you want to leave.”
“I’m not your client. I don’t need a damn contract.” Finn raised his voice.
“I’m sorry, Finn. I didn’t mean to sound like a lawyer. I just want you to feel safe when you make choices.”
Finn curled into him, quiet tears soaking into Maurice’s shirt, and Maurice held him through all of it—steady, warm, patient—until Finn’s breathing evened out again.
“You’re safe with me,” Maurice whispered into his hair. “Always.”
Finn didn’t answer with words. He just held on tighter and fell asleep against him the way someone does when they’re finally safe enough to let go.
One minute he was blinking up at Maurice with damp lashes, the next his breathing had settled into a rhythm.
Maurice stayed still, one hand resting on Finn’s back, thumb brushing small circles without thinking.
The little train room was dim and quiet, the lamp casting a warm glow over Finn’s face. His cheek was pressed against Maurice’s chest, lips parted slightly, hair mussed from crying and comfort.
Maurice’s phone buzzed. He held his gaze, giving himself a second to confirm Finn was sleeping. He didn’t want to move or break the peace, but he also knew Finn slept deeply once he was out, and Maurice needed a minute to breathe, to think, to talk to someone who wasn’t curled up on his chest.
He checked his messages.
David: Can you meet me in my room for a few minutes?
Maurice: Sure.
Maurice eased Finn down carefully, sliding a pillow under his head so he wouldn’t stir.
He mumbled something soft and half-formed, the kind of sleep-talk that made Maurice’s chest go warm, but he didn’t wake.
Maurice brushed a hand through his hair one last time, letting his fingers drift away slowly, like he was reluctant to break the contact.
Leaving the bed felt like stepping out of a pocket of heat—his skin prickled the second the cool air hit it.
The room was dim and still, the kind of quiet that made him want to crawl right back under the covers and stay there with Finn breathing against his shoulder.
Instead, he pushed himself up, feet finding the floor, the chill running up his legs as if the train itself was reminding him he had things to do.
He cracked the door open and slipped into the hallway.
The shift was immediate. The low vibration of the engine buzzed through the soles of his feet, a steady undercurrent that made the walls feel alive.
The air out here was cooler, sharper, carrying the faint metallic scent of the train—oil, steel, motion.
Lights flickered overhead as they passed through another stretch of track, throwing brief shadows across his face.
Maurice closed the door behind him and let his back rest against it for a second.
The quiet in the hallway wasn’t peaceful the way the room had been; it was the kind that reminded him he’d stepped out of something soft and safe and into the moving world again.
He drew in a breath, let the coolness settle him, then pushed off the door.
He walked the few steps to David’s room and gave a light knock, knuckles tapping against the wood in a rhythm that matched the faint thrum of the engine beneath his feet.
David answered the door and moved to the side to make room for Maurice. “Why did Mr. Santos kick you and Caleb out of the dance?”
“Caleb insisted on dancing with Finn, refusing to take no for an answer.”
“He’s an asshole. How’s Finn doing?”
Maurice nodded. “He’s asleep. Long day.”
David leaned against the wall beside him. “You two seem… serious.”
Maurice didn’t deny it. “We are.”
David let out a sigh. “Already planning the future?”
Maurice shrugged, but it wasn’t casual. “We talked. About San Francisco. About his visiting Virginia. About… more.”
David’s expression softened. “You really like him.”
Maurice looked down the hallway toward their door. “Yeah. I do.”
David nudged him lightly with his shoulder. “So, what’s the plan?”
Maurice exhaled. “We’re going to spend real time together in San Francisco. Then he’ll come to Virginia if he can take time off. I want to show him everything. My home. The lake. My life.”
David nodded. “And after that?”
Maurice hesitated, then said it out loud. “If he likes it, I’ll help him find work. Whatever he needs.”
David blinked. “That’s big, Maurice.”
“I know.”
“You sure he’s ready for that?”
Maurice pictured Finn sobbing on his chest, completely floored by all the unexpected kindness. “He will be. He just needs someone steady.”
David gave him a long look. “And you’re ready to be that person?”
Maurice didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I am.”
David smiled, small but genuine. “Then I’m happy for you. Really.”
Maurice nodded, feeling the truth of it settle in his chest. “Thanks.”
David pushed off the wall. “Get some sleep. You look like you’ve lived three days in one.”
Maurice chuckled. “Feels like it.”
He headed back to the room, opening the door. Finn was still asleep, curled toward the spot where Maurice had been. Maurice slipped back into bed, easing an arm around him.
Finn instinctively moved closer, tucking himself against Maurice’s chest as if he belonged there.
Maurice held him, shadows drifting across the cabin as the train passed another signal light.
Yeah. I can do this. I want to do this.
And he didn’t let go.