desertion

176

LYDIA

The house was unusually quiet for a Saturday. Chris was sitting on the couch with his laptop, headphones on as he watched something. Buck and Dad were in the kitchen, talking about something I couldn't hear. And me? I was in my room, staring at the case file spread out on my bed.

I couldn't help myself. I was supposed to take the day off, supposed to relax, but the case wouldn't leave my mind. The details didn't line up, and the more I thought about it, the more anxious I felt.

The knock on my door was so soft I almost missed it.

"Come in," I said, not looking up.

The door creaked open, and Mason stepped inside, holding two mugs of coffee. "Thought you might need this," he said, setting one down on my nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Thanks," I mumbled, flipping through the file.

Mason leaned back on his hands, watching me. "You know, for someone who's technically off duty, you're not doing a great job of relaxing."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I can't help it, Mason. Something about this case is bothering me. It's like there's this one piece we're missing, and I-"

"Lydia," he said, cutting me off gently.

I finally looked up at him. His dark eyes were soft, concerned, but his tone was firm.

"You need to stop," he said. "Just for today. You're going to burn yourself out."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand.

"I mean it," he said. "You've been running yourself ragged over this case, and I get it-I do. But you're no good to anyone if you're too exhausted to think straight."

I closed the file, leaning back against my headboard with a frustrated sigh. "I just... I don't know how to turn it off, Mason. It's like my brain won't let me stop thinking about it."

"Then let me help," he said, smiling softly. "Come on. Let's go downstairs. Buck and your dad are probably arguing about who makes better pancakes or something equally ridiculous. We'll play a game, distract you for a while."

I hesitated, but Mason reached over, tugging on my hand.

"Come on, Lyds," he said. "Trust me. You need this."

Downstairs, Buck was leaning against the counter, holding a spatula like it was a weapon, while Dad stood with his arms crossed.

"I'm just saying," Buck argued, "my pancakes are fluffier. It's not even a contest."

"Because you put half a pound of butter in the batter," Dad shot back. "That's cheating."

"It's called flavor, Eddie."

Chris looked up from the couch. "You're both terrible cooks. Mason makes better pancakes than either of you."

Mason smirked. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but let's not start another argument, yeah?"

"Too late," Buck muttered, but he grinned, dropping the spatula onto the counter. "What's up, kid?"

I shrugged, leaning against the back of the couch. "Mason said I need to stop thinking about work for five minutes, so here I am."

"Wow, she listens to you," Dad said, raising an eyebrow at Mason. "That's a first."

"Funny," I muttered.

"We were about to play a board game," Chris said, closing his laptop. "You in?"

"What game?" Mason asked, plopping down on the couch beside me.

"Monopoly," Buck said, holding up the box.

Mason groaned. "Monopoly? Really?"

"What's wrong with Monopoly?" Buck asked, offended.

"It ruins friendships," Mason replied.

"And families," Dad added.

"That's the fun of it," Chris said, already setting up the board on the coffee table.

The game started out calmly enough. Chris made a big show of picking the car token, while Mason grabbed the dog. Buck insisted on being the top hat, and I took the thimble.

"Why the thimble?" Mason asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because it's small and unassuming," I replied. "Like me."

He snorted. "Unassuming? Sure, Lyds."

It didn't take long for the chaos to start. Buck bought Boardwalk on his first turn, and Dad landed on it almost immediately.

"You're bleeding me dry already," Dad grumbled, handing over his cash.

"Should've bought it when you had the chance," Buck said smugly.

Mason, meanwhile, was hoarding railroads like his life depended on it.

"I'm telling you," he said, grinning, "the railroads are the key to victory."

"You're going to regret that when you land on my hotel," I said, smirking.

"Big talk for someone who only owns the brown properties," he shot back.

"I'm playing the long game," I replied.

The banter continued, the tension rising with every turn. By the time Chris bankrupted Buck, everyone was laughing so hard we could barely breathe.

For a little while, I forgot about the case. I forgot about the stress and the overthinking. It was just us-me, Mason, and my family-arguing over fake money and laughing until our sides hurt.

And for the first time in days, I felt okay.