desertion

168

LYDIA

The station was quiet for once, the kind of calm that made you wonder if something was about to go catastrophically wrong. Mason and I were at our usual desk, going through the files for a missing person's case we'd been assigned. It was just the two of us today, and even though the work was heavy, it felt lighter with him around.

"Okay, so," Mason started, leaning back in his chair and holding up a photo of our missing person, "we've got a twenty-seven-year-old woman, last seen at a gas station about forty miles from here. No witnesses, no security footage past her getting a coffee. What do you think?"

I tapped my pen against the table, my gaze flicking from the photo to the stack of papers in front of me. "I think... she should've skipped the coffee. The last thing I'd want before disappearing is to be jittery and dehydrated."

Mason laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "Really? That's your big takeaway?"

I shrugged, grinning. "I mean, if I knew I was going to vanish, I'd at least go out on a full stomach. Maybe a burger and fries, milkshake on the side."

"Noted. If we ever solve your disappearance, I'll make sure to check the nearest diner first."

I rolled my eyes, but my smile lingered as I nudged his shoulder with mine. We were sitting close, as usual, our knees almost brushing under the desk. Mason's hand was resting on the edge of the table, and without really thinking about it, I let my fingers graze his.

It wasn't much—just the lightest touch—but it was enough to send a small jolt through me. Mason looked down at our hands, then up at me, his lips twitching into a smirk.

"You know," he said, his voice low enough to make my heart skip, "if you wanted to hold my hand, you could've just asked."

I felt my cheeks heat up, but I refused to back down. "Who says I want to hold your hand? Maybe you're the one reaching for me."

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, leaning a little closer. "Sure, Lydia. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. Mason always had this way of making me feel lighter, like the weight of the world wasn't as heavy when he was around.

"Back to the case," I said, trying to steer the conversation back to something professional. "What's our next move?"

Mason leaned forward, scanning the file again. His shoulder brushed mine, and I didn't pull away.

"Well," he said, tapping a finger on the map we'd been marking up, "her car was found abandoned about ten miles from the gas station, near this hiking trail. Maybe she went for a walk and got lost?"

"Maybe," I said, frowning. "But if that's the case, why were her keys still in the ignition? And her purse was on the passenger seat. That doesn't exactly scream 'casual hike.'"

Mason nodded, his brows furrowed in thought. "Good point. You're smart, you know that?"

I snorted. "What gave it away? The fact that I can read?"

He chuckled, reaching over to nudge my arm. "I'm serious. You've got instincts, Lydia. You're good at this."

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, and I felt a warm flush creep up my neck. "Thanks," I mumbled, ducking my head to focus on the papers in front of me.

Mason didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me. After a moment, his hand found its way to mine again, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. It was such a small, simple gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth through me.

We worked like that for a while, the silence between us comfortable. Every now and then, one of us would make a joke or toss out an idea about the case, and the other would respond with a grin or a laugh.

At one point, Mason leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rode up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin, and I quickly averted my gaze, biting my lip to keep from smiling.

"Enjoying the view?" he teased, catching me off guard.

I rolled my eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Don't flatter yourself, Mason."

"Too late," he said with a wink.

I shook my head, but I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," he shot back, grinning.

I didn't respond, but the smile on my face probably said more than I intended.

Eventually, we decided to follow up on a lead about the gas station's delivery schedule, hoping it might give us a better timeline for when the missing woman was last seen. Mason grabbed his jacket, holding it out for me like a gentleman.

"After you," he said, his voice dripping with playful charm.

"Don't push your luck," I warned, slipping into the jacket he held.

As we walked out to the car, Mason's hand found the small of my back, guiding me like he always did. It wasn't necessary, but I didn't mind. With Mason, every little touch felt natural, like it was exactly where he was supposed to be.

We spent the rest of the day chasing leads, bouncing ideas off each other, and sharing quiet moments that made the weight of the case feel a little less overwhelming.

By the time we got back to the station, we hadn't solved the case yet, but we'd made progress. And more importantly, we'd done it together.

Mason leaned against the desk, his eyes meeting mine. "You know," he said, a soft smile tugging at his lips, "we make a pretty good team."

I smiled back, my heart feeling lighter than it had in days. "Yeah," I said softly. "We do."