15. Tess #3
The nearest photographer lowered his camera and walked toward the second SUV. His partner followed, pulling the strap over his head as he went.
Tess watched them retreat.
One liftgate opened.
A camera disappeared into a padded case. The second went beside it, followed by a long lens wrapped in black fabric. A tailgate slammed, then another door shut farther down the line.
The yard fell so quiet the steady hum of the bait aerators bled through the shack wall.
The cameras were gone.
Camden had done that.
But he was still standing beside Marcus.
Tess stepped off the wall. “You’re actually going with them?”
He turned a little, but not enough for her to see his face.
Marcus gestured toward the marina buildings. “Collect your bags so we can get off this dirt.”
Camden looked once toward the shack.
The hammer still lay where he had left it near the railing.
His ruined work clothes, whatever little he had brought into this place, everything that belonged to the weeks he had spent scraping hulls and sleeping at the Sandpiper—it all remained scattered somewhere behind Tess.
“I’m leaving it,” he said. “Open the door.”
Marcus nodded toward the lead SUV.
The PR handler moved to open the rear door.
Tess looked from the waiting vehicle to Camden’s taped back. She crossed the shells before she could talk herself out of it. Camden turned as she stepped around him, but she kept moving until he had no choice except to face her.
“Stay back from the cars,” he said. “The cameras are packed, but they’re still on the property.”
“I don’t care about the cameras right now.”
He closed his mouth.
Marcus waited near the SUV with one hand resting on the open door. Chloe stood farther back beside the second vehicle, while the photographers finished securing their equipment. Sully remained near the stairs with the gaff lowered at his side.
Tess stopped in front of Camden.
This morning, she had stood on those same steps and offered him eggs.
He had looked battered, stubborn, human. For one reckless stretch of minutes, the man repairing Sully’s railing had looked more real than the quarterback who had abandoned her anniversary dinner.
Now a black SUV waited behind him.
“You’re actually folding,” she said. “One ounce of real pressure in this mud, and you surrender straight back to the sterile machine that broke us.”
Camden let her speak without interrupting.
That almost made it worse.
No lecture about campaign obligations came back at her. No speech about contracts or brand strategy. He just stood there with dirt on his boots and tape around the ribs he had nearly broken saving Sully.
“Tess—”
“Don’t.”
His gaze moved toward the vehicles, then back to her. “I hold my ground, the lenses stay on you. Taking this backseat is the only transaction that pulls those cameras off your dock.”
“They’re already packed.”
“Because I agreed to leave.”
The answer cut through every excuse she had tried not to make for him.
Marcus hadn’t backed down because Camden had finally drawn an uncrossable line. Camden had offered terms, and Marcus had accepted them.
Again.
Tess folded her arms across the curve of her stomach.
“So that’s it?”
“I’m not asking you to approve it.”
“Good, because I don’t.”
Camden just looked at her, offering no reaction she could read. He didn’t reach for her. He didn’t ask her to understand.
Behind him, Marcus tapped the SUV door with two fingers.
“Camden. We’re done here.”
Tess looked past Camden at the waiting backseat.
The same world she had escaped four months ago had driven straight onto her gravel, barked a command, and opened a door. All the hull scraping, the motel room, the storm, the blood ground into his palms—none of it changed the image waiting in front of her.
Camden turned halfway toward the SUV.
She stopped him with her voice.
“Then close the door and don’t look back. Your life belongs in the VIP suites, Camden.”
He lowered his head for a moment.
When he looked at her again, he didn’t argue.
“All right.”
That was all.
Camden walked away.
He crossed the shells toward Marcus, leaving the hammer near the repaired railing. At the SUV, he caught the edge of the open door with one damaged hand and eased himself into the rear seat, guarding his taped side as he sank onto the upholstery.
The door shut.
Marcus rounded the vehicle and climbed into the front. Chloe entered from the opposite side, while the PR handler hurried toward the second SUV. Sully stood beside Tess without speaking as the first engine rose above the marina noise.
The convoy started moving.
Tires chewed through the shells and sent pale dust rolling across the loading lane. One SUV followed another toward the highway until the last set of taillights cleared the marina entrance and vanished beyond the roadside palms.
Tess stayed where Camden had left her.
The dust settled over the yard. Somewhere behind her, the bait aerators continued their steady hum, and water knocked against the pilings as if the morning had never been interrupted.
She kept her eyes on the empty driveway until there was nothing left to watch.
Then Tess turned her back on the highway.