Hometown

Chapter Three

After seven years of silence so complete it had almost felt like a lifetime instead of an absence.

Her chest tightened, the pressure blooming slowly and suffocating, like something heavy had been set squarely against her ribs. Her throat followed, constricting until even breathing felt like an effort. Her eyes burned, vision threatening to blur, while her heart—

God, her heart—pounded so hard it felt violent, erratic, like it didn’t quite remember how to beat properly anymore.

Too fast.

Too much.

Too everything.

She dragged in a breath, but it didn’t help.

It didn’t touch it.

She had promised Bonnie she would be there tomorrow. Promised it like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just had her entire past dropped back into her life without warning. Like it wouldn’t turn into something far bigger than a party.

Because it wouldn’t just be a party.

It would be Axel’s homecoming.

And she didn’t know if she could do it.

Didn’t know if she could stand in the same room as him without everything she had carefully buried clawing its way back to the surface. Without breaking open right there in front of everyone.

Without shattering completely.

Even now, just the thought of him being here—close enough that the distance between them could be crossed in minutes—was enough to unravel her in ways she hadn’t felt in years.

The last twenty-four hours had already been too much.

This?

This was unbearable.

A sharp knock broke through the spiral, sudden enough to make her flinch.

“Harmony?” a voice called through the door, muffled but clear enough. “Dillan is out here asking for you.”

Of course he was.

Because apparently tonight had decided subtlety was overrated.

Harmony let out a slow breath, dragging herself back together piece by piece, even as exhaustion settled deep in her bones. She didn’t move toward the door. Didn’t even consider it. Instead, she crossed the room and dropped onto the overstuffed couch, the cushions sinking beneath her weight as she stared up at the ceiling. “Have Tony throw his ass out,” she called back, her voice steady despite the storm still clawing at her chest.

She was not doing this tonight.

Not him.

Not Axel.

Not any of it.

The couch creaked softly as she shifted, one arm thrown over her eyes like she could block it all out—noise, memories, reality itself.

For a few seconds, she almost convinced herself it might work.

Almost.

But the bass still pulsed through the walls.

Her heart still hadn’t slowed.

And somewhere out there—whether she was ready or not—her past was already closing in.

It had been nearly two hours since the last text came through.

Two hours had passed since Dillan had been thrown out.

Two hours of Harmony pretending the night hadn’t already gone sideways.

By the time she decided to leave, the club was in full swing—packed wall to wall, bodies moving in rhythm, laughter spilling over itself, the music loud enough to drown out almost anything.

Almost.

She didn’t say goodbye.

Didn’t stop at the bar.

Didn’t look for Cinnamon or anyone else who might question why she was leaving early on a night like this.

She just slipped out the same way she had moved through the club earlier—quiet, unnoticed, already halfway gone before anyone realized she wasn’t there anymore.

The back door shut behind her with a dull click.

And just like that—the noise dropped away.

Not completely. The bass still pulsed faintly through the walls, a distant, muffled echo of what she was leaving behind. But out here, in the open air, it felt different. Thinner. Manageable.

Cool night air brushed against her skin, and grounded in a way the inside of the club never quite was.

Harmony exhaled slowly as she stepped into the parking lot, her heels clicking softly against the concrete with each measured step. The lot stretched out in front of her, dimly lit by a few overhead lamps that cast long shadows between parked cars.

Too quiet.

But not enough to raise alarms.

Not yet.

She reached into her purse without breaking stride, fingers finding her keys by instinct. The familiar weight settled into her palm, and with a small press of her thumb, her car responded.

A sharp click.

Headlights flashed once. Then twice.

The sound echoed faintly across the lot.

There.

Safe. Predictable. Hers.

She approached her BMW, her steps never faltering, though something in her chest hadn’t quite settled since she stepped outside. A lingering tension. The kind that didn’t come with a clear reason, just a quiet insistence that something wasn’t right.

Her hand came up toward the door handle—and then she heard it.

Footsteps.

Soft.

Scuffing slightly against the pavement behind her.

Not loud.

Not rushed.

But unmistakably there.

Harmony stilled.

Not fully. Not obviously. Just enough that her body shifted, her awareness snapping sharply into place. Her grip tightened around her keys, instinct kicking in before thought could catch up. She adjusted them in her hand, sliding one between her fingers, the metal pressing cold and solid against her skin.

A small, silent weapon.

She turned.

Slowly.

Carefully.

And there he was.

Dillan.

Leaning just enough into the light for his features to sharpen, his emerald green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent something cold down her spine. He didn’t look surprised to see her.

He looked… patient.

Like he had been waiting.

Because he had.

The realization settled heavily in her gut.

He stepped forward, unhurried, his gaze flicking briefly down to her hand—catching the way she held her keys—before lifting back to her face.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Is there a reason why you’re ignoring me?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, voice calm in a way that didn’t match the tension in his eyes. His attention dipped again, lingering on the key between her fingers. “What are you gonna do with that?” he added, almost amused. “Stab me?”

Harmony didn’t answer.

Didn’t move.

Her eyes tracked him instead—every shift of his weight, every inch he closed between them. She knew better than to underestimate him, knew better than to assume he wouldn’t push this further.

Because he already had.

And he would again.

He dragged a hand through his dirty blonde hair, a quiet laugh slipping out of him like he found the whole thing entertaining.

Like this was a game.

Then he moved closer.

Too close.

Before she could step back, before she could react—his hand shot out.

His fingers wrapped around her upper arm, grip tight, unyielding, and he shoved her back hard enough that her spine met the side of her BMW with a dull, jarring impact.

Pain flared instantly.

Sharp.

Immediate.

Harmony grimaced, her free hand bracing against the car as her grip tightened instinctively around the keys, the metal biting into her palm.

Still, she didn’t give him the reaction he wanted.

Didn’t flinch away.

Didn’t break eye contact.

Dillan leaned in slightly, close enough now that she could smell him—faint cologne, something bitter underneath it. “This isn’t over, Harmony,” he said, his voice dropping, losing that edge of amusement. “I’ll give you your space. For now.” His grip tightened just enough to make his point. “But you’re not going anywhere.”

Before she could turn her head—before she could shove him off—his mouth was on hers.

Forced.

Rough.

All claim and no permission.

For a split second, everything in her went still—not from shock, but from restraint.

Then he pulled back just as abruptly as he’d leaned in.

And shoved her.

The force sent her stumbling a step to the side, her shoulder catching the car again as he turned away as if nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just crossed every line that existed between them.

Like he had not just made it clear this wasn’t finished.

Harmony didn’t watch him leave.

Didn’t give him that satisfaction.

The second he put distance between them, she moved.

Fast.

Her hands fumbled only slightly as she yanked open her car door, sliding inside and slamming it shut behind her. The locks clicked down immediately, the sound louder than it should have been in the enclosed space.

Her breath came quicker now.

Sharper.

Her hands shook—just barely—as she jammed the key into the ignition.

She didn’t look for him.

Didn’t check where he went.

Didn’t hesitate.

The engine roared to life, and within seconds, she was peeling out of the parking lot, tires catching hard against the pavement as she sped off into the night.

Away from the club.

Away from Dillan.

Away from everything that had been waiting for her there.

But even as the distance grew—the weight of it all stayed right where it was.

The road home is one she could drive blindfolded, every bend and dip etched into muscle memory from years of repetition. The hum of her engine fills the quiet, low and steady, a dull companion to the ringing silence that always seems to follow her after a night at the club. The music still lingers faintly in her ears, a ghost of bass and laughter, but it fades more with every mile she puts between herself and it.

She doesn’t realize she has missed her turn at first.