Finn’s cheeks warmed, and he ducked his head, but he didn’t look away for long. When he lifted his gaze again, there was something new in it—something open, something trusting.
A familiar tug tightened in Maurice’s chest again, quiet and steady.
They rode on, talking about everything and nothing—the best campfire meals, the time Finn fell out of a canoe and blamed the canoe.
Maurice told him about the horse he’d ridden on the Marine base in Germany, a stubborn mare who only listened to him when she wanted to.
Finn laughed so hard he nearly dropped the reins.
And through it all, they kept drifting closer—legs bumping, hands grazing, the kind of small touches that felt like promises.
By the time they looped back toward the ranch, Maurice knew one thing for certain. He didn’t want this morning to end.
And from the way Finn kept glancing at him—soft, hopeful, a little stunned—he didn’t think Finn wanted it to end either.
At one point, their horses slowed, walking close enough that their knees brushed. Finn didn’t move away. Maurice didn’t either.
“You know,” Maurice said, voice low, “after San Francisco… if you want… you could come visit. My home. The ranch. The lake. All of it.”
Finn’s breath caught. “You’re serious?”
Maurice nodded. “I don’t invite people lightly.”
Finn looked down at his hands on the reins, then back at Maurice with a soft, almost disbelieving smile. “I’d like that. A lot.”
Maurice reached over again, this time letting his fingers linger on Finn’s wrist. Finn turned his hand, lacing their fingers together for a moment as the horses walked on.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Finn
By the time theyfinished 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 beensurprised; 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.”
