“Nope.” Maurice pushed off the wall. “I don’t need any Indy guys. I’m going to meet Finn. See you later.”
Maurice stepped back into the hallway behind David, letting the door click shut behind him. The noise of the train and voices bounced off the narrow walls, footsteps thudding on the carpet runner, the faint metallic groan of the cars shifting against each other. It all became louder now that he’d said everything out loud to David. Too loud. Like the train itself was listening. But all he could think about was Finn. And how badly he wanted to get this right.
He walked, weaving around a pair of guys arguing playfully about who owed who a drink. Someone farther down the corridor laughed—big, booming, morning-after laughter that echoed all the way to the next car. Until now Maurice had liked the energy of the Pride Train, but right now it just made him feel restless.
He’d said it without hesitation. And it was true. Every word. But wanting someone and knowing what to do with that want were two different things, and he wasn’t exactly known for subtlety in or out of court.
He passed the Welcoming Car, where a bartender was already polishing glasses as if it were noon instead of morning. A couple of new passengers from Indianapolis were dragging their suitcases toward their cabins, chatting excitedly about the dance tonight. Maurice barely glanced at them. He wasn’t here for fresh faces anymore.
He kept replaying the moment he had walked up to Finn and Jacob earlier. The way Jacob had looked at Finn—bright, delighted, like Finn was the best part of his morning. And Finn had looked… flustered. Sweet. Caught between them.
Maurice straightened his tie again, even though it already sat perfectly. It was just something to do with his hands while the rest of him tried to settle. He didn’t enjoy sharing the space around Finn—didn’t enjoy watching other people drift close enough to catch the warmth of him, the softness he saved for a select few. It scraped at something low in his chest, something he pretended wasn’t there.
He knew he had no claim on Finn. Not yet. But the wordyetlived in him like a pilot light—small, steady, impossible to extinguish—and moments like this made it flare hotter than he meant to let on.
But he was in my room last night.
That thought hit him again, warm and sharp. Finn had been there, and Maurice had let him leave. He should’ve asked him to stay. Should’ve said something real instead of playing it cool.
He reached the end of the car and paused, hand on the metal handle of the connecting door. The train rattled beneath him, but he wasn’t steady at all. He wasn’t nervous often. But this? This was different. Maurice took a breath, squared his shoulders, and pushed the door open. Time to meet Finn. And this time, he wasn’t letting the moment slip through his fingers.
Maurice crossed into the next car, the door thudding shut behind him. He scanned the space automatically out of habit, hope, and nerves all tangled together. And then he saw him.
Finn.
But Finn wasn’t alone.
He was standing near the windows with Caleb, the two of them talking in that easy, leaning-in way that made Maurice’sinhale stutter, barely making it past his throat. Caleb said something that made Finn laugh softly, the kind that Finn didn’t hand out freely.
The sight hit Maurice like a sudden loss of cabin pressure—one second normal, the next his chest hollowing out, ears ringing, breath thinning as if the air had been sucked straight out of the car.
Of all people… Caleb? Some things Caleb had said about Finn added up.
Maurice slowed without meaning to, one hand tightening on the back of an empty seat. The surrounding car buzzed with new passengers dragging luggage, voices overlapping, the conductor calling out instructions, but all of it blurred into background noise.
Finn looked good in the morning. Too good. Blond hair a little messy, cheeks pink from the sunlight, that shy brightness in his eyes that made Maurice feel like he was seeing something rare. And Caleb was standing close enough to notice all of it.
Maurice’s jaw tightened.
He wasn’t angry at Finn, not even close. Finn could talk to whoever he wanted. Finn should talk to whoever he wanted. But seeing him with Caleb stirred something sharp and unwelcome in Maurice’s chest, something he didn’t have a name for yet.
You’re losing your mind, David had said.
Maybe he was.
Caleb leaned in a little more, saying something low. Finn’s smile flickered—small, polite, unsure. Maurice knew that look. Finn wasn’t fully comfortable. He could read it from across the car.
That helped. A little.
Maurice straightened, forcing a slow breath. He would not storm over there like some jealous idiot. Not again. But he also wasn’t walking away. Not when Finn was right there. Hetook a step forward, steadying himself, his feet as if daring him to make a move. Alright, let’s see what this is. And he kept walking.
Maurice crossed the car, steady steps, heart doing that annoying heavy thud it only did when Finn was involved. As he got closer, Finn looked up first. And the change on Finn’s face hit Maurice like a warm rush. Relief. Plain as day. Finn’s shoulders loosened, his eyes brightened, and that tight, brief line around his mouth softened. He looked like someone who’d been holding his breath and finally let it go.
Caleb’s expression tightened, his smile going thin around the edges. “Well, look who decided to join us,” he said, voice dipped in something sharp. “Interrupting again, Maurice?”
Maurice kept his tone level, almost bored. “Didn’t realize I needed an appointment.”
Caleb crossed his arms, shoulders bunching up. “You kind of do when someone’s in a serious conversation.”
