9. Tess #2
She turned toward Briggs. “Keep an eye on the charter for me. I need to deal with my husband before I authorize the departure slip.”
Briggs looked past her toward Camden. The easy humor from a minute ago disappeared entirely.
“Say the word,” he said. “I’ll drag him back to the highway myself. Or I’ll get Sully.”
Tess studied him for a moment.
No demand. No attempt to take over. He had offered his help and left the decision with her, the same way he handled every other problem on this dock.
“I’ve got him,” she said. “Keep the loading area clear for the captain.”
Briggs shifted his attention back to the boat, but not before giving Camden another long look. “You yell, I’m coming.”
“I know.”
Tess slid the pen beneath the clipboard clip and took the stairs one measured step at a time. She refused to rush. Running would turn this into a scene before Camden had even opened his mouth, and Sully’s marina was not another backdrop for the Ford family disaster.
He came here.
The realization stayed with her down the last step.
The shells crunched beneath her shoes when she reached the driveway. Heat rose from the packed ground, carrying diesel fumes from the fuel pumps to mingle with the chill of Camden’s idling SUV.
He remained rooted beside the open door.
Four months ago, that would have been enough to make her close the distance for him.
She would have filled the silence, explained what she meant, softened whatever he was feeling before he even had to speak.
She had spent years doing exactly that—making every uncomfortable moment easier for the man whose schedule always mattered more than hers.
Not anymore.
Behind her, Briggs dragged the final cooler across the dock. The captain called something about the stern line. Work continued without waiting for Tess’s marriage to sort itself out.
Good.
She crossed the driveway.
Camden looked from her stomach to her face as she approached. Up close, the contrast was worse. Clean clothes. City shoes. The faint controlled hum of air conditioning spilling from the open vehicle behind him while the afternoon heat radiated off Tess’s shoulders.
He had brought his world straight onto Sully’s dirt.
Tess anchored the clipboard against her side, refusing to slow down as Camden shifted his weight to come toward her.
She changed course to intercept him.
The dock stairs remained behind her. The charter boat sat beyond them, Briggs standing by while the captain prepared to leave. This was her workplace. Her shift. Her life.
Camden did not get to walk into it simply because a process server had finally handed him an address.
Tess stopped several feet in front of him.
He opened his mouth.
She raised the clipboard between them before a word came out, not threatening him with it, only making the boundary plain.
Then she took one more step forward, placing herself squarely between Camden and the dock.
He could look at her. He could look at the child he had never known existed.
But he was not walking past her.
Camden moved first.
He crossed the space between them and reached for her arm.
Tess stepped out of reach. Shells scraped underfoot as she pulled the clipboard flat against her chest.
“Don’t.”
“Tess, I’m not trying to—”
“Then don’t touch me.”
Camden lowered his arm, but his posture changed, the hesitation dissolving as he drew himself up.
The exhausted man who had stood staring at her stomach was gone, replaced by the version of him she knew from podiums, interviews, and sponsor events—the quarterback who expected a room to move when he spoke.
His eyes dropped again.
“You’re pregnant.”
Tess said nothing.
“How far along are you?”
The question almost made her laugh.
Not because it was funny. Because he was standing in front of six months of evidence, asking for a number as though the right statistic might explain where he had been while their child was growing without him.
Camden looked toward the SUV and pulled the rear door open.
“Get out of the heat. Get in the car.”
There it was.
The command.
Not Can we talk? Not Are you okay?
Get in the car.
“We need the air running,” he said. “And we need to handle this in private.”
Tess stared at the tinted windows.
Of course his first instinct was a closed door.
For three years, every uncomfortable truth in their marriage had been handled that way. Keep Tess away from the cameras. Keep the marriage out of the interviews. Keep the wife somewhere safe and private while Camden Ford belonged to everybody else.
Not again.
She tightened her grip on the clipboard.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. This is a commercial lot, and you’re trespassing, Camden.”
He frowned. “I’m trying to help you.”
“No. You’re trying to move me.”
“Tess—”
“I’m not climbing into a tinted backseat so you can hide me the second my existence gets inconvenient.”
He stiffened.
“That is not what this is.”
“Then stop treating me like a problem you need behind a locked door.”
The charter engines idled behind her. Someone shifted a cooler on the deck. Work continued while Camden stood in the driveway trying to drag the conversation into a world Tess had already abandoned.
He gestured toward the SUV again.
“I’m trying to get you out of this heat. You’re standing in direct sun, and you’ve been hauling gear around a marina while you’re—” He broke off. “How far along?”
“Six months.”
The answer stopped him.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Tess let him sit in the silence.
Camden looked past her toward the dock, taking in the coolers, the bait, the working charter crew.
“Six months,” he repeated. “And you’re doing this every day?”
“This is my job.”
“You shouldn’t be working in this heat.”
“I’m not asking your permission.”
“I can secure a suite. Somewhere with air conditioning. Somewhere you can sit down and we can figure out what the hell is going on.”
Tess almost admired the efficiency of it. He had been on Sully’s property for mere minutes, and already he wanted a hotel, privacy, climate control, and a conversation on terms he understood.
Camden pointed toward the open door. “Please. Get inside the car. Hauling gear in this heat while you’re six months pregnant is unacceptable.”
Tess stayed where she was, with the clipboard between them and the SUV door standing open behind him.
Before Camden could press the issue, the charter captain came down the dock steps with the departure slip in hand.
“Tess, you good to clear us?”
She turned away from Camden.
“Give me the slip.”
The captain handed it over. Tess pressed the paper flat against the clipboard, pulled the pen from beneath the clip, and ran the point down the printed lines. Everything matched. Bait loaded. Ice secured. Tackle accounted for.
She kept her hand steady as she signed the bottom.
Camden stood behind her without speaking.
Good.
He could wait.
Tess tore off the carbon copy and handed it back to the captain. “Manifest is signed. Here’s your authorized copy. Have a clean run out to the reef.”
“Appreciate it.”
The captain headed back toward the boat. A moment later, the twin outboards rose from an idle into a deeper rumble, pushing water against the pilings as the charter eased away from the dock.
Tess secured the pen beneath the clip again.
“Tess—wait.”
She stopped, but she did not turn right away.
“Please.” The command from a minute ago was gone. “Just give me five minutes. That’s it. Five minutes to explain.”
Five minutes.
Tess looked over her shoulder at him.
Four months without showing up. Four months without standing in front of her and demanding the truth.
Four months while her body changed, while she learned Sully’s ledgers, while she figured out which bait suppliers delivered on time and which charter captains needed reminding twice before they settled an invoice.
Now he wanted five minutes.
“I’m on the clock, Camden.”
“I know. I’m asking for five minutes.”
“You had four months.”
He stiffened. “I didn’t know where you were.”
“You knew I left.”
“I thought you needed space.”
Tess faced him fully. “You thought staying away for four months was giving me space?”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Then whatever explanation you flew down here to deliver is four months late.”
Camden stepped toward her, then caught himself. “I made the wrong call. I know that now. Just let me explain how it happened.”
She stared at him.
That was the trap, wasn’t it? One explanation became another. Marcus said this. The campaign required that. The schedule got away from him. The playoffs mattered. The brand needed protecting.
There would always be a reason.
The reasons had already cost enough.
“We have nothing to discuss.”
“Tess.”
“Leave Sully’s property.”
His expression shifted at that, but Tess looked away before she had to interpret it.
She turned and walked back toward the dock.
Behind her, Camden said her name again.
Tess climbed the stairs without answering.
Briggs glanced over from the loading area, but she gave him a small shake of her head and kept moving. No rescue required. No audience needed.
The bait shack door stood open ahead of her.
Inside, the receipt book still sat beside the register, and the afternoon inventory remained unfinished.
Tess stepped behind the counter, set the clipboard down, and pulled the unfinished sheet toward her.
A charter engine faded somewhere beyond the slips.
Camden might still be standing in the driveway.
That was no longer her problem.
She went back to the inventory and never looked over her shoulder.