Hometown

Chapter Eight

Leaving behind silence.

And Axel, standing in it, his gaze shifting slowly from the empty road… back to the house.

Harmony heard the truck before she saw it.

The engine had cut through the quiet of the morning, low and heavy, followed by the sharp grind of gravel as it pulled into her driveway. At first, she had not thought much of it—just another intrusion into a morning that already felt too tight, too full.

But then Dillan’s voice had stopped.

Just… stopped.

No final word. No last jab thrown toward the house.

And then came the sound of his bike.

The engine roared to life, louder than necessary, angry in a way that carried even as it faded. Tires spit gravel as he tore out of her driveway, the sound lingering for a moment before disappearing completely down the road.

Silence followed.

Real silence this time.

That was what pulled her to the door.

She didn’t know who had shown up. Didn’t know what had just happened in her yard. But whoever it was had made Dillan leave—and that alone was enough to draw her out.

The door opened slowly beneath her hand, the hinges giving a soft, familiar creak as she stepped out onto the wraparound porch. The early morning air met her immediately, cool and still, brushing against her skin in a way that should have been calming.

It wasn’t. Her gaze moved across the yard, searching, adjusting to the light—and then it found him.

Everything inside her stilled.

It wasn’t gradual. It wasn’t hesitant.

It was immediate.

Her heart didn’t race or flutter the way it used to.

It dropped. Heavy. Sudden. Like it had slipped straight through her chest and hit the ground beneath her feet.

Axel.

Standing there in her driveway like he hadn’t just torn through seven years of distance by simply showing up.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Her fingers tightened slightly against the door frame behind her, the wood grounding beneath her palm as her honey-colored gaze locked onto his. She didn’t blink. Didn’t look away.

Couldn’t.

Because if she did, she wasn’t sure he would still be there when she looked back.

And that thought—that brief, irrational flicker of uncertainty—only made something twist tighter in her chest.

He was real.

He was here.

And he was looking at her like she might vanish if he so much as shifted wrong.

Axel didn’t move.

Not a step. Not even a shift of weight.

Every instinct in him urged him forward—to close the distance, to say her name, to do something other than stand there like he was afraid of his own shadow. But something deeper held him in place.

A quiet, unshakable certainty.

If he moved too fast—she would run.

And he wouldn’t get another chance.

So he stayed where he was, rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on hers as if anchoring himself there.

Seven years.

Seven years, and not a single detail of her had faded from memory enough to dull the impact of seeing her now. Time had changed things—of course it had—but not in a way that made her unfamiliar.

If anything—it made her presence hit harder.

And standing there, in front of her home, something else settled in around him.

The absence.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t obvious.

But it was there.

This place had once been full in a way that had nothing to do with walls or furniture. It had been warm. Alive. Constantly moving with voices and laughter and the quiet chaos of a home that welcomed everyone in, whether they planned to stay or not.

Holly would have already been halfway across the porch by now, calling his name before he even made it out of the truck, pulling him into a hug that didn’t allow for hesitation. She would have insisted he come inside, already talking about food before he had the chance to say he wasn’t hungry.

And Jack—

Jack would have followed close behind, shaking his head, muttering something about her overfeeding every living thing that crossed her path, even as he reached out to clap Axel on the shoulder as if he had never been gone at all.

It had always been like that.

Full.

Now—there was only quiet.

It pressed in around him in a way that made his chest tighten, the reality of it landing harder than it had when he first heard the news five years ago.

He swallowed against it, forcing the feeling down enough to speak. “I—I came by…” The words came out rougher than he intended, catching slightly before he could smooth them over. He paused, steadying himself, knowing even as he spoke that whatever he said wouldn’t be enough. “To see how you’re doing.”

The silence that followed stretched thin.

Harmony didn’t respond right away.

She just looked at him.

Really looked at him.

Taking in the details she had not allowed herself to think about in years. The way time had settled into him. The way he carried himself now—different, but not unfamiliar enough to make it easier. If anything—it made it worse. Her eyes narrowed slowly, the shift subtle but sharp enough to cut. “You didn’t care for the last seven years.”

Each word landed clean, deliberate, carrying more weight than if she had shouted them across the yard.

Axel didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t try to explain.

He let her speak.

“What?” she continued, stepping forward now, the boards of the porch creaking softly beneath her feet as she moved closer to the railing. “You’re bored now that you’re a civilian and decided to pick up where you left off?”

There was no hesitation in her now.

No uncertainty.

Just anger—steady and controlled, the kind that had been sitting too long, waiting for a moment exactly like this. She stopped at the edge of the porch, her hand settling against the railing as her fingers curled around it, grounding herself as much as holding her in place. “You expect to pick me up off the shelf,” she said, her gaze never leaving his, “dust me off like I haven’t been sitting there all this time?” Her grip tightened slightly. “As if I wasn’t discarded. And forgotten.”

The words hung in the space between them, heavier than anything else she had said.

Axel felt them.

Every single one.

Not as sound—but as impact.

His jaw tightened, his chest pulling tight with it, but he didn’t look away. Didn’t break under it, even as it settled deep and unmoving.

Because she was not wrong.

And standing there, in the quiet that followed, there was no hiding from that truth.

“I deserve that.” The words came quieter than anything else he had said, rough around the edges, like they had been sitting in his throat longer than he wanted to admit. There was no defense behind them. No attempt to soften what she had thrown at him.

Just acceptance.

Axel dragged a breath in, steadying himself before continuing, his gaze still fixed on her like looking away might undo whatever fragile moment he had managed to hold onto. “I just wanted to say…” He paused briefly, choosing his words more carefully this time. “I do hope you’ll come to my mom’s party today.” It felt small. Insufficient. But he pushed through it anyway. “I don’t expect you to be happy with me,” he added, his voice more grounded now, more certain in its honesty. “But I don’t want my being back to be the reason you stop going by to see them.”

That—that seemed to land.

Not softly.

But it hit.

Harmony’s jaw tightened, the muscle feathering beneath her skin as she held his gaze, something flickering behind her eyes that she didn’t give voice to. “As if your presence could keep me away from them,” she scoffed, though there was less bite in it than before—still sharp, still defensive, but not as cleanly cutting. “I planned to come today,” she continued, her tone leveling out just enough to sound controlled again. “What I did not plan was for you to show up at my door.”

Axel’s gaze shifted briefly, glancing over his shoulder toward the road, toward where Dillan had disappeared not long ago. “But you expected a man to be shouting in your yard at ten in the morning?” he asked, his tone even, but edged with something quieter. Something observant.

Something that didn’t let things go easily.

Harmony’s mouth opened—ready, armed with something to throw back at him—but whatever it was stalled out before it could form. Her lips pressed together instead, the response dying before it ever reached the surface. “That is not your business.”

There it was.

The wall.

Immediate and solid.

Axel’s mouth curved just slightly—not a real smile, not anything warm. Just the faintest hint of something sharper. “Yeah,” he said, almost under his breath. “Because you were handling it so well.”

The sarcasm was light—but it landed heavy.

Harmony’s jaw tightened again, sharper this time, irritation flaring back up just as quickly as it had dimmed.

And then—he moved.

It wasn’t rushed. Not exactly.

But it was decisive.

Axel stepped forward, closing part of the distance between them until he stood at the base of the porch, close enough now that details sharpened. Close enough that the space between them didn’t feel safe anymore.

And that was when he saw it.

The bruise.

Faint, but unmistakable—brushed along her jawline, purple blooming beneath her skin in a way that didn’t belong there. His gaze flicked lower, catching another on her upper arm where her sleeve didn’t quite hide it.

Something in him shifted.

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It was immediate.

Before the thought fully formed, before logic had the chance to step in and slow him down—he was moving again. Up the steps. Onto the porch. Closing the rest of the distance in a way that was fast enough to steal the breath from the moment.

Harmony reacted instantly. She stepped back, more from surprise than fear, her body adjusting to the sudden change, the space between them shrinking too quickly for comfort. Her hand brushed against the railing behind her as she put distance between them where she could, her eyes narrowing as she tracked him.

He stopped only when he was close.

Too close.

Barely a foot between them now.

Close enough that there was no ignoring it.

No pretending this was not happening.

Axel’s gaze locked onto her jaw again, the bruise impossible to miss at this distance. His expression hardened—not outwardly aggressive, not explosive—but tight, controlled in a way that made it clear something had just crossed a line he didn’t tolerate. “Who hit you?”

The question was not soft.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was low. Direct. Demanding in a way that didn’t leave much room to dodge.

His eyes lifted back to hers, searching, sharp, unrelenting.

He didn’t touch her.

He didn’t reach for her.

But the restraint in that alone made the tension between them feel even tighter.

“Was it him?”

For a split second, something flickered across Harmony’s face.

Not fear.

Not weakness.

Recognition.