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.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Finn
The train just kepteating up Northern California, mile after mile of trees and foggy light sliding past the window. It was their last morning onboard, and the whole place still buzzed from the big party they’d had the night before with voices in the distance, the faint clink of dishes, and laughing a few cars down.
Finn was still in bed, tucked into the warm dent Maurice’s body had left, when the soft scrape of paper sounded on the floor. Maurice bent to pick something up from under the door.
“This has your name on it,” Maurice said, straightening and handing it over.
Finn pushed himself up against the pillows and stared at his name written in neat, no-nonsense handwriting. He smoothed out the note and read it.
Finn,
Meet me in thirty minutes at the engineer car.
Thank you,
Mr. Santos
His stomach did a little flip. Not necessarily a bad one—just… Mr. Santos was intense on a good day.
“What is it?” Maurice asked.
“Mr. Santos wants me to meet him in thirty minutes,” Finn said, glancing up.
Maurice’s brows pulled together. “Do you want me to go with you?”
Finn shook his head, even though a small part of him wanted to say yes. “No. I’m sure he wants to talk to me alone. Probably about you.”
Maurice deepened his voice. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s Mr. Santos. Everything sounds ominous,” Finn said, but he smiled.
Maurice hesitated, then shifted closer on the bed, his expression turning more serious. “Can I ask you something first?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Maurice’s eyes met his, as if he was getting his phrasing just so. “Do you want to spend five days with me in San Francisco?”
The question hit Finn as if someone had opened a window in his chest. He inched closer without even thinking about it and wrapped his arms around Maurice, pressing his face briefly against his shoulder.
“More than anything,” Finn said, voice muffled in his shirt.
Maurice’s arms came around him. “Good,” he murmured into Finn’s hair. “I’d be very lost without you, Finn.”
