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Someone once said “those who laugh the loudest cry the hardest.” Well. Someone once wrote it. Wrote it and slapped on a pamphlet. Handed it out to everyone with a sense of humor that survived institutionalization. He’d laughed it off. Laughed everything off. It’s what he did.
“So why the pills that night Shawn?”
And he laughed again and spun a tale of inadvertently taking a codeine pill out of the big bottle of pills he had left over from various prescriptions and hospital visits.
“And why do you have a big bottle of pills Shawn?”
“Why don’t you? No. Really. I have an eidetic memory. I know what they are. And if only I know what they are then no one else does and they can’t take anything to get high because they don’t know what they’re taking.”
“So it’s an altruistic strategy? To keep others from doing drugs?”
“Exactly. Then when I was a little loopy from the codeine I thought that I hadn’t taken anything to help the pain in my arm - “
“From the bike accident.”
“Yes, from the bike accident.”
“The one that you were lucky to walk away from.”
“Exactly, all right? I was lucky. So why would I over dose on pills right after surviving that? Anyway. I forgot if I took the pain meds because the arm kept hurting. So I’d take them when I thought about it and the next thing I know I’m bibbity bobbity booed to the hospital and everyone has their tighty whities in a wad about me trying to kill myself.”
“Which you didn’t.”
“Exactly.”
Shawn had breathed a sigh of relief back in his room. The doctor had missed his slip up. If he had an eidetic memory and knew what was what, then how could he have accidentally taken a codeine. He had leapt into a yarn with enough humor and false self deprecation of an “I’m such a silly goose” kind that the doc hadn’t brought it up.
When he was let out on Friday his father drove him to his apartment. The lecture wasn’t fun - they never were - but by this time Shawn was so deep into his lie of misunderstood intent that he played off the reaction by evading and distracting and irritating his dad until they arrived and Henry gave up. “You’re hopeless Shawn. And don’t go looking for that bottle.” Henry yelled out the window and held the large orange plastic container up, shaking it.
“The little blue ones aren’t what you think they are old man!” Shawn yelled as his dad drove off.
Once he was inside the apartment his grin fell off like a switch was flipped. He knew his dad was suspicious of him. That’s why he’d taken the stash. But Henry had believed the doctor when he’d given him his professional opinion that Shawn was fine and had had an unfortunate reaction to an easy to make mistake when one wasn’t in their right mind. He’d been angry after that. The lecture started in the hospital and continued for most of the drive. But he believed that his son was ok. Well ok for an ADHD-driven, overgrown manchild.
The next few weeks played out normally. A case came up and he weaseled he and Gus in on it. He’d teased Lassiter and flirted with Jules and amazed the department members, congratulating Buzz on his upcoming promotion to fatherhood before anyone else knew. He didn’t ruin the announcement for the big lug though. He was capable of leaving some people their big moments.
He let a few other opportunities for mischief slide too. He could have embarrassed Lassie after he deduced that Lassie had just been given bad news over the phone that had made the detective come to near tears. After that he just let more and more opportunities to show off slide. Gus noticed immediately and Shawn just grinned. “Precisely my black Watson. Perhaps I’m trying to be more grown up.” He put on the jokes and the show until Gus gave a genuine smile and said, “Good. I’m glad. Now if you can keep up the adulthood you can maybe come clean to Juliette and Detective Lassiter about not being psychic and you’ll be free of secrets!”
Shawn assured him it was in the works, “just…” he said earnestly, holding Gus’ shoulder and looking at him seriously. “Just let me do it on my own, ok? I don’t want to get them mad at you for faking it with me.”
“Good point.”
For six weeks his antics continued to diminish. More and more he’d find himself switched off and zoned out when he thought no one was around to perform for. He was tired. He wanted to be done with this plan. But it had to be the long con. He had to wean himself away from them. Because he was hooked on them. The way they made him feel. Jules would hug him and bounce around all cute and hyper but intelligent and noble. He knew he was bad for her. Figured she knew it too. He was going to remove himself as a distraction for her. She’d go so far without him holding her down with his eccentricities.
Gus had been his best friend his whole life and now he looked so much happier and healthier since Shawn had cut back on his antics. Gus would likely benefit most. He’d have his career back. His family plan trajectory would realign. Sure he may miss Shawn at times but he’d be surrounded by all the new friends and the life he should have had all along had Shawn not hijacked it.
He was absolutely sure he was doing right by them. Knew it with out a glimmer of doubt. And he was willing to let them go.
But then there was Lassie. Detective Carlton Lassiter. He was just as sure about Lassie being better off without him as he was that the rest would be. But here Shawn hesitated. He loved his time with Lassie. Because Lassie challenged him. Kept him on his toes mentally and physically. And if Shawn hung all over him and made pet names and kissy faces at him, only he knew how serious he wanted it to be. But he started to pull away there too, making every little contact hurt all the more deeply.
He stopped running Gus along on reckless whims. He stopped dragging him out of work with urgent needs consisting of “One of those new pineapple explosion things they just got down at that new gas station. They sound amazing. You look like you have a vitamin A deficiency.”
“Pineapples are vitamin C Shawn.”
“I’ve heard it both ways. Now get in the blueberry. I don’t want to walk down there.”
Without Shawn’s constant wildness Gus had been able to make progress at work. Meet a woman. Go on several uninterrupted dates. He cornered Shawn the morning after one such date. “Nothing? Nothing Shawn? Usually by now I’ve had two migraines and found out my date used to be a hitman or something.”
“Ok, she first off wasn’t a hit man. She hired a hit man. And secondly, don’t you carry around those acetaminophen/caffeine/Midol pills for migraines? Those things are excellent.”
“Ibuprofen Shawn.”
“God bless you?”
“The medication. It’s not Midol, it’s ibuprofen.”
“What’s the difference?”
And Gus had gone off on a tangent about medication uses and equivalencies and forgot entirely about the interrogation he had started.
Week seven had Gus’ birthday in it. He planned a fun day hooky from work and dragged Gus all over like old times but with fewer bullets. Then he took Gus to his favorite - not Shawn’s, but Gus’ favorite, burger joint. There he left Gus in the hands of Monica, who had planned the rest of this date day and who had invited all Gus’ coworker friends to join for dinner.
“I’ll bow out tonight Gus. You won’t want me telling you that two of your coworkers may have driven here separately but they came from the same location. I’ll see you later!” He backed out of the room with a smirk as Gus yelled, “Wait, who is it?” And then he was out the door.
Gus would be ok now. He had a bigger support system. Jules had proven herself resilient and able to go back to working without his banter and antics. His dad would move on because that’s what men did and if Shawn wasn’t a man, well, Henry Spencer was. And Carlton? Well he didn’t give a rat’s ass about Shawn anyway, did he.
Shawn walked home. He’d totaled the bike the night of the accident. He’d swerved to avoid a cat. “Might have been a large squirrel. Or a tree kangaroo, I can’t be sure of that. Do tree kangaroos migrate?”
At least that’s what he told everyone when he’d disentangled himself and walked with a broken arm and lots of bruises and small lacerations to the ER. In truth? He’d laid the bike down. Gone intentionally too fast towards the curve and laid it down hoping the drop off the other side was big enough. But he’d misjudged and hadn’t known there was a massive, fresh dirt pile that stopped only fifteen feet below the edge Shawn launched himself off of. It hadn’t been there the week Shawn had scouted the location. Now it broke his fall just enough for him to have to fast talk his way out of another mess. Then he’d been home alone for too long to recuperate. He’d gotten bored and restless and into a spiral that he couldn’t break and he’d taken the overdose of oxycodone from his emergency room prescription.
And of course Gus had come over, found Shawn being sick on the floor, found the nearly empty bottle of medication, and dragged Shawn to the ER. Another tap dance. An “Awe shucks, it was a mistake. My arm hurt and I didn’t remember if I’d taken my meds yet.” And he’d gotten away then too.
Now though. He sighed. It was time. Everyone had stopped looking at him like he was going to break long ago, trusting that he was truly his ridiculous self. Everyone he cared about would be fine and there would be no screw ups this time.
——-
“Detective Lassiter”
The writing on the manila envelope was strong and clear. Carlton approved silently as he sat at his desk and gazed at the envelope. Most everyone had gone home. He was just staying to catch up on some documentation and maybe get some gun range practice in. He’d gotten up to get coffee and had thought he’d heard a door open but when he’d come back round the corner it was silent and still.
He didn’t recognize the writing. It was masculine. Strong, but almost graceful. A strange combination that made him curious as to the writer was. Only one way to find out.
From habit he flicked a letter opener through the top edge to preserve DNA or finger prints. There were two pages. Written in the unfamiliar but satisfying hand.
“Detective Lassiter:
Where do I start? With the truth I guess.
You were right. You were right all along. About me. About what I was doing. Or rather, not doing. You were right about so much. And I can’t leave you not knowing that for sure. From me.”
Lassiter frowned. This sounded serious. “Who was I right about? And where are they going?” He hurried to read more.
“I am a fraud.”
“Shawn.” It clicked. But there was more to read and Lassie turned pale with dread as he went on.
“I’m not a psychic. I never have been. I never will be. What I am is very observant and very quick. I played with theatrics and grand reveals because I wanted the attention. I stayed working with you and Jules because I wanted to feel like I was making a difference as part of a team. Like I belonged somewhere.
I’m sorry I spent so much time annoying you. Hanging all over you. Pushing your buttons. The truth is… the truth, Carlton, is that I’ve been so touch starved, so desperate, so … in need of physical attention. Well. I took it from you in the ways you gave it and it used to be enough.
I’m sorry Carlton. Somewhere in all the banter and idiocies, lies, and cases, I fell for you. You kept me on my game, physically and mentally. You’ve got such a strong spirit and you’re so uptight until you’re not and then that little bit of your mischievous side sneaks out. Or your gentleness shows through when you can’t help it. You’re amazing. So I used your hatred of me to take something I needed. The old “if I can’t have your love I’ll take your hate” cliche.
At any rate.
Tell my dad I left him all the papers he needs to take ownership of and distribute/destroy my belongings. I got rid of most of it already. Tell Gus I made sure he was safe and with better friends than I was and I hope he stays happier for them than sad for me. Tell Jules she’s gonna make a great chief someday and a better mom someday after.
Goodbye Carlton.
Shawn Spencer.”
“Fuck!” Lassiter shouted. He grabbed the letter and his jacket off the chair which swiveled as he yanked the keys from his pocket and dashed out the door.
Shawn would be on foot. He hadn’t had time to go far on foot. The bike was wrecked. “On purpose. I knew it Shawn. Tree kangaroo my ass.” Carlton cursed and muttered as he drove slowly down the street. “Plus you and that damned memory of yours wouldn’t accidentally take anything even if you were completely smashed, so that was on purpose too. You sneaky little bastard.”
His words were angry but on the edge of panic and his eyes were wide and glossy with tears he didn’t know were there. He continued his diatribe. “And there’s me. Acting like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t notice. Like I didn’t let you hang all over me. Like I didn’t goad you into taking it just that millimeter further every once in a while. Like I didn’t notice these last few weeks, how you’ve been toning yourself down and making yourself scarce. I noticed Shawn. And I hated every minute. Now where are you, you little bastard?”
He kept driving, kept looking, kept analyzing everything he could from the last months. Shawn had tried heights once. He’d tried pills. He wasn’t the type to do anything the same way twice when once failed. Then a memory hit. With eyes wide and scared, he jerked the wheel and turned wrong way down a one way towards the beach. There was a pier that had been near one of their take downs two weeks ago. He’d seen Shawn staring silently at it. Looking intently at the rocks and debris and scaffolding and ropes that were strewn about.
“God damn it Shawn!” And the speedometer crept forward again. Carlton wasn’t the praying type. He didn’t believe in a religion that had so many rules but no reasons behind them. He liked rules. But they had to be justifiable. And religion just didn’t do it for him. But he muttered under his breath all the same for someone anyone anywhere to please let him not be too late.
The car came to a rubber-burning halt halfway onto the near end of the long pier. It was past eleven and the area was dark beneath the shadow of the building and the trees that edged the water. As he crept forward the moon came from behind a cloud and Carlton could see plainly that he had been right about this.
He burst into a run. At the far end, a hundred yards away, he saw Shawn bend and pick up something. Something big. He heard the splash as the something big hit the black water ten feet below.
“Shawn!” He ran faster yet, shedding his jacket and dropping things from his pockets and leaving his shoes to skitter behind him. He almost made it but before he could reach Shawn’s shirt the younger man had turned to face him and Lassiter thought there were tears in his eyes as the weight he’d thrown yanked him down, down, down and under by the rope at his neck.
His neck. Damn it Shawn had hoped to break his own neck to keep from untying himself in a moment of doubt.
Carlton didn’t doubt. He dove off the pier chasing the bubbles. He could swim well. Worked out in the pool often. But trying to not panic and think of Shawn dead was making it harder than it should have been. He groped desperately in front as he kicked himself further and further into the cold.
A moment before he would have become hopeless, his hand brushed something. He grabbed at it with all his might and almost laughed in distressed shock when it grabbed back. Oh thank god his neck hadn’t broken. He used the connection to pull them closer together. He couldn’t tell if he brought Shawn up to him or himself down to Shawn but it didn’t matter. His hands found the rope at Shawn’s throat. The water threatened to pull him off the knot he was desperately working at so he wrapped his legs around Shawn’s waist. He was running out of air and fighting the weights of their bodies plus the anchor without his legs was impossible. But he wasn’t going to let go. They would drown together if it came to it.
The knot came loose and fell away. Lassie grabbed the waistband of Shawn’s jeans as he let go with his legs. It took every molecule of oxygen in his body to get them to surface and he gasped in a huge wheeze of air. The pier was too high to climb on to from here. He had to get them to shore. Switching to a lifeguard hold Lassie struggled them to the shore.
When he could stand he dragged Shawn with him and dropped him to the rocky beach the instant they were completely free if the water. He wanted to collapse and pant and recover a minute before he ripped Shawn apart verbally. But when he looked down he saw that Shawn hadn’t moved. Wasn’t moving. Wasn’t breathing. The stark, full moon’s glow made him look too pale. Too cold. Too dead.
“No Shawn. No Shawn. No no no no. No.” Carlton was angrily denying everything. Not just what his senses told him. Not just the last few minutes. The last few years. The ways he’d failed Shawn without ever realizing it. How he could have had a chance at something better if he hadn’t let his hardass reputation and toughness win out over his intrigue at the human shaped golden retriever puppy that waltzed, literally danced at times, in and out his life like the world wasn’t a hell hole and living really was that good.
He dropped to his knees and scrabbled Shawn onto his back. He felt for a pulse on his neck but didn’t find one. “God damn you Shawn!” And he lunged into chest compressions. Deep, rib breaking compressions. The only effective kind. Tears mixed with the water flinging from his short hair as he counted to thirty, hating every pain he knew he was causing before tipping Shawn’s face and gripping his chin for rescue breaths. One. Two. Not too forceful, watch for chest raise. Thirty more compressions. Instead of numbers this time Lassie turned to begging. “No. Please. No. No. Shawn. Please.” Rescue breaths.
It hurt. It hurt so much. He’d been an idiot. He’d often thought about what Shawn would taste like, feel like, if he kissed him. But he’d never let on. Never allowed it to be more than a fleeing moment. And now he finally had his lips on Shawn’s and it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Four rounds in and Lassie was gasping for air. Proper CPR is hard work for two people and Lassie was alone. On the sixth round he broke into a sob. He knew these last two breaths were the last chance. He had no more left to give. He wasn’t strong enough to keep it up by himself. His phone was, hopefully, still up on the pier where he’d shed it in his mad dash.
One.
Two.
When Shawn remained unresponsive after Carlton tried to breathe his life back, he let out a harsh, broken sob. He’d failed. He’d failed in so many ways and now Shawn was gone. He hadn’t rechecked on Shawn after the whole motorcycle and pill thing had “just been a big misunderstanding.” He’d been a little angry at himself for how much he worried over Shawn and madder still when he was relieved that Shawn was ok. He let himself believe Shawn was ok because he wanted him to be. He ignored all the changes and red flags of the last few weeks because he was finally getting what he’d been saying he wanted - a break from the insanity and zaniness of Shawn.
And then he’d figured it out too late. Missed the rescue by seconds. Wasn’t strong enough to bring him back. He knelt at Shawn’s side, knees aching in the background of his mind where the beach stones dug in mercilessly.
Head bowed he placed his palm over Shawn’s heart. “I’m sorry Shawn.” He moved gently then. No more urgency and terror. Just sadness. He was face to face with Shawn again. No breaths this time. Just. Something he should have done ages ago and now never would get to do again.
He kissed Shawn. “I should have done this every day. Should have kissed your smile and your laugh. Should have touched your arm and held your hand. Should have let myself tell you how I was feeling. Because I fell for you Shawn. I knew you were a fraud. I’m not as dumb as you want me to think you think I am.”
He sat back up and his face turned into a snarl “Goddamn. You stupid bastard. Now what?” He pounded angry fist into Shawn’s chest. And again. His voice rose and he hit Shawn with each word. “You bastard! I loved you, you little. You little shit. We all do in our ways. But I loved you too.” It took too much out of his already exhausted body. He sank down onto his back and lay gazing at the scattered clouds as they whisped through the moon beams and dipped everything in brief blackness. In a parody of his grasping for Shawn under water, Lassie groped for a hand again. Held it. And almost had a myocardial infarction when he felt it twitch.
—
He couldn’t lie away the ligature marks. Or the note he was sure Lassiter would hand over the first chance he got. And Lassiter wouldn’t let him avoid the hospital. But Lassiter didn’t say anything about what had happened. He let Shawn lead the way with details and he stayed within those limits.
He was grateful, he really was. But every time he tried to look the detective’s way, the other man would turn from him.
—
Gus had been devastated to hear that this had been a serious attempt after the other two had failed. Jules cried and apologized. Henry gave him the choice between going somewhere for therapy or being under house arrest with him as warden. No one was surprised when Shawn went to the live-in treatment center but they were all shocked when he stayed.
He was gone over a month. Jules let herself get back into working cases and when a new officer joined the force and started flirting with her she allowed it and flirted back.
Gus’s Monica wouldnt let him stew and fixate and make himself feel bad and she dragged him out to dates and to meet with other people and Gus got back into the life he had been working on before this mess.
Henry did whatever it was that Henry did.
Only Lassiter wasn’t moving on.
He had kept the note Shawn had left him. He had the pages memorized. He traced the letters, so unlike Shawn’s normal childish scrawl. He wondered how much of the childlike displays were actually just that - a show put on to disguise how intelligent he was. How deeply his feelings ran and how much they hurt. When he was laughed at or being yelled at or his dad was disappointed he played into the joke and everyone thought it was all water off a duck’s back to him. But it wasn’t. And Carlton had been twisting the knife just as much, if not more than most.
He still worked his cases. Went swimming. To the shooting range. For his morning jog. He never breathed a word about Shawn’s note or admitted how he had found Shawn. How he had given up and had only been lucky that his angry barrage had been the right combination to get his heart beating again.
“Well, is he coming back to the team? We sure could use him on a few of these cases we have… a good psychic would sure save some time.”
Lassiter looked up and held his breath when he heard the chief’s voice.
Juliette answered. “No. He ah. He says that he lost his psychic powers.”
“He what?” Chief sounded incredulous. Lassiter looked it as he inadvertently gaped.
“He said that he lost his psychic power because he must have had some sort of hypoxic brain damage from drowning.”
Lassie was on pins and needles. They’d left that part out. In their version Shawn had tried but been rescued before it got that desperate. He wanted to sink into the floor. He wanted to hear what they said next. Fortunately they seemed to have stopped walking but were still conversing.
“He said he had to admit it. The whole truth. That he actually had drowned and Detective Lassiter had to give him CPR. He said he owes Lassiter his life and it was wrong to not admit that.”
“Well that’s… a shame about the psychic abilities. But I’m glad Shawn’s ok. Is he coming to see us any time soon?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s why I was trying to find you. He wanted to come say good bye to everyone. Not” he could hear the way she must have held up her hand to stop the chief from speaking. “Not like that. He said he’s moving east and wanted to thank everyone.”
“Well when does he want to come by?”
“Tomorrow. At one. I checked. Buzz and Woody and everyone I can think of can all be here.”
“Tell him we’ll see him at one tomorrow then.” And Lassie heard her steps start off down the hall while Jules’ went back the other way. Jules was grinning ear to ear. She knew Lassie heard them. The chief knew too. They’d staged that conversation just for him.
—-
It was a good party. Everyone was there and slapping him on the back and wishing him well and mourning the loss of his psychic abilities but making sure to say how glad they were he was ok. And for his part he laughed and smiled and was almost not lying completely.
But he had noticed Lassie’s absence. He figured the man was avoiding him. The letter had made Shawn’s feelings clear. And Lassie was answering questions with his avoidance. It hurt. But Shawn was resigned to it and he let himself enjoy as much as he could.
Things were winding down. It was him, Jules, Buzz, Gus, Monica, Henry and Woody, sitting in the break room. Shawn was seated on the table, his feet on the seat of the chair in front of him.
“Shawn.”
Everyone looked up. Lassie stood in the doorway.
“Are you truly not psychic any more?”
“Umm, no, not any more. Why?” And it was a serious question tinged with distrust.
“And you’re done working cases here? With the department?”
“Finito. No more. Why?”
“Because then I won’t have to dance around the dating-a-coworker rules.” Lassie strode forward as he spoke and whipped the chair from beneath Shawn’s feet.
Shawn yelped and flailed his legs apart as he tried to keep his seat. Lassiter fitted himself between Shawn’s knees, grabbed the back of his neck, and pulled him into a deep kiss.
Shawn froze, truly shocked, but only for a moment. In the midst of all the hoots and hollers from the peanut gallery he kissed back. They pulled back for air and grinned at each other from inches apart, Lassie’s hands moving to cup either side of Shawn’s face. “You didn’t see that coming?”
“You’ve watched Age of Ultron?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Shawn leaned into Lassie. They didn’t move for a moment. Until.
“Ten bucks, Henry.”
“Yeah yeah.” He pulled a ten from his wallet and gave it to O’Hara. “I didn’t think he’d do it here.”
Shawn and Lassie broke their gaze and looked
around. Buzz was blushing and doing a semi embarrassed looking kind of shuffle. Woody was grinning ear to ear. Monica looked a little surprised while Gus looked relieved. O’Hara and the chief looked smug. Henry just shook his head, looking at his wallet.
“Wait… so…” Lassie touched his forehead to Shawn’s and closed his eyes. “Everyone?”
“Oh come on Carlton. We all saw how you acted. How protective you were, how much you weren’t saying. How you were without him.” Jules wasn’t mocking. She was gentle.
“Yeah, Lassiter. It was pretty obvious. Once I knew what I was looking at.” Henry seemed a bit uncomfortable.
“Dad…”
“Shawn don’t. I’m not upset for the reason you’re assuming. Son I’ve known about you since you were ten years old. And I don’t care what gender the person you love is.”
“Please bury me now.” Lassie said quietly through gritted teeth, still between Shawn’s legs with his eyes closed.
He opened his eyes at Shawn’s soft chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. They’ll get sick of teasing soon enough.”
“Don’t count on it Shawn.” Gus sounded so serious that the tension snapped and they all laughed. Lassiter turned his back to Shawn, ready to step away. Shawn wrapped his arms around Lassie’s waist. “Uh uh.” He scooted back on the table and pulled Lassiter up with him until Lassie was fully in his lap.
“No PDA Shawn. You don’t want to embarrass him do you?” Woody was laughing. Lassiter’s ire rose just a bit. Embarrass him? He wasn’t embarrassed by this. He wanted everyone, especially Shawn, to know that he wanted to be seen together. Lassie grabbed Shawn’s cheek and turned him until they were face to face again. Loud, calm, and clear he spoke. “Shawn. I love you.” And this kiss was almost more desperate than their first.
Life was different after that. Harder in some ways. Easier in others. But so, so much better over all. They had their spats. Shawn was still impulsive, still rash at times, jumping headlong in before assessing the situation. Carlton sometimes took things too seriously or let himself get rankled over a case. They’d fight and sometimes one or the other would show up at Jules’ or Gus’ to cool off. But they always returned to each other.
When Gus had gotten married they’d celebrated with and for him. When Monica was pregnant Shawn went overboard with “Uncle Lassie” shenanigans. As the baby grew up, her favorite people besides her parents were always Uncles Shawn and Lassie, who became known as “Shassie” when her baby talk couldn’t distinguish the two names. They were always there for her.
And if anyone noticed that Gus’s six year old hid a little better, sought a little more efficiently, and had a rather extensive vocabulary, then no one said anything. She could ramble off the lyrics to cartoons that had been off the air decades before she was born, knew every use and warning for every medication and item in their first aide kit and bathroom, and knew too many laws and facts about traffic stops.
Lydia grew up loving superheros and mischief but knowing that real heroes were never in capes and Spandex and that mischief wasn’t always harmless no matter what you intended.
By ten she could shoot almost as well as uncle Lassie and pick up details almost as readily as her uncle Shawn. But she had her parents people skills and never overdid it, never showed off, never missed the chance to let someone else put it together and solve something. She was charming, adorable, and clever.
“Just like you.” Lassiter nuzzled a kiss to the top of Shawn’s head as they stood in the doorway to the backyard.
“Aw, Lassie. It almost sounds like you like me.” The same playful tone as always and he did his part.
“Almost. Don’t let it go to your head.” And Shawn turned in his arms and and raised his face to him while, out in the yard, Lydia and her friend pretended to not notice Shassie was kissing again.