desertion

173

LYDIA

The smell of coffee wafted through the house, pulling me from the light doze I'd slipped into. The sun was already high in the sky when I finally rolled out of bed, groaning at the stiffness in my body. It was my first day off in what felt like weeks, and I had promised myself I'd spend it doing absolutely nothing. For once, I wasn't going to think about crime scenes, evidence, or suspects.

After shuffling to the kitchen in my pajamas, I poured myself a cup of coffee and grabbed a muffin from the counter. Dad was sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone with a distracted expression. I gave him a small wave and headed to the living room.

Settling on the couch, I pulled a blanket over my legs and scrolled through streaming services, trying to decide what to watch. My body was exhausted, but my mind buzzed with restless energy. I couldn't help but think about the case we had just closed and the one we'd probably get assigned next. The pressure was relentless, but I thrived on it-or at least I told myself I did.

By mid-morning, I had made my way through two episodes of some crime drama and was debating whether to start a third when Dad appeared in the doorway.

"Still on the couch, huh?" he asked, leaning against the frame.

"It's my day off," I said, giving him a pointed look. "I'm allowed to be lazy."

"I didn't say you weren't," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Just making an observation."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to the TV. He lingered for a moment before stepping into the room.

"You've been looking pretty tired lately," he said, his tone casual but edged with concern.

"I'm fine," I said quickly, not wanting to get into it.

"Lydia..." he said, taking a seat in the armchair across from me. "You've been running yourself into the ground. Late nights at the station, barely eating... when's the last time you actually slept well?"

I sighed, setting the remote down. "Dad, I'm fine. Really."

"You keep saying that, but I'm not convinced," he said, his voice firmer now. "You're spreading yourself too thin, and it's starting to show."

"I'm just doing my job," I said, trying to keep my tone even.

"Your job is important, I get that," he said. "But you're not a machine, Lydia. You need to take care of yourself."

"I am taking care of myself," I said, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "Just because I'm tired doesn't mean I'm falling apart."

He shook his head. "You say that now, but what happens when you hit a wall? When you can't keep going?"

"Why do you always assume the worst?" I snapped, sitting up straighter. "I'm handling it, okay? I don't need you to hover over me like I'm some fragile little kid."

"Because I'm worried about you!" he shot back, his voice rising. "I see you pushing yourself too hard, and it scares me, Lydia. You're not invincible."

"I never said I was!" I yelled, standing up. "But I can handle my own life, Dad. I don't need you to micromanage me."

"This isn't about micromanaging," he said, standing as well. "This is about me watching my daughter run herself into the ground. You think I haven't seen this before? You think I don't know what it looks like?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"It means you're just like your mother," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "She did the same thing-took on too much, refused to slow down, and it nearly destroyed her."

The mention of Mom hit me like a punch to the gut. "Don't bring her into this," I said through gritted teeth.

"Why not? It's the truth," he said, his tone harsh. "She spread herself so thin trying to be everything to everyone, and it broke her. I'm not going to stand by and watch the same thing happen to you."

"I'm not Mom," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm not going to break."

"You say that now," he said, his eyes filled with worry. "But you're already cracking, Lydia. And I'm trying to help before it's too late."

"I don't need your help!" I yelled, my emotions boiling over. "I'm not some damsel in distress who needs saving. I'm doing the best I can, and if that's not enough for you, then I don't know what is!"

"That's not what this is about," he said, his voice softer now. "This is about you taking a step back and realizing you don't have to carry everything on your own."

"I'm not carrying everything on my own," I said, my voice quieter but still firm. "I have Mason, I have the team... I'm not alone, Dad. But I need you to trust me. Trust that I know my limits."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I do trust you, Lydia. I just... I don't want to lose you."

The vulnerability in his voice made my anger dissolve in an instant. My shoulders slumped, and I sat back down on the couch. "You're not going to lose me, Dad," I said softly. "I promise."

He nodded, taking a seat across from me again. "Just... promise me you'll take it easy, okay? At least on your days off."

"I'll try," I said, managing a small smile.

It wasn't a perfect resolution, but it was enough for now. I knew he meant well, even if his words sometimes felt like daggers. And deep down, I appreciated that he cared.