Hometown

Chapter Four

He saw it.

And that alone was enough to make her shut it down just as quickly.

Her expression hardened, her spine straightening as if physically bracing herself against the weight of his attention. Whatever had almost surfaced in that moment disappeared behind something far more familiar—control.

Cold. Steady. Untouchable.

“You’re out of line.” She does not raise her voice. Each word was precise, deliberate, meant to put distance back where he had just erased it.

Axel didn’t move.

Didn’t step back.

Didn’t break eye contact.

Harmony noticed. And it irritated her more than she wanted to admit. Her chin lifted slightly, not enough to be obvious, just enough to reestablish ground she refused to lose. “What happens here—” she continued, her tone sharpening just a fraction, “—is not your concern.”

Axel’s gaze does not waver. If anything, it narrowed. That same quiet intensity settled deeper, heavier, like he was filing her response away instead of accepting it. Like he didn’t believe her.

That—that got under her skin.

“You don’t get to show up after seven years,” she added, stepping forward this time, closing the inch of space she had given up earlier, her voice lowering but losing none of its edge, “and start asking questions like you’ve earned the answers.”

The words were meant to push him back.

To remind him of exactly where he stood.

But he still refused to move.

Still didn’t give her that distance.

Still didn’t look away.

And that refusal—quiet as it was—felt louder than anything he could have said.

Her jaw tightened again, frustration threading through her composure as she held his gaze, unwilling to be the first to break it. Unwilling to give him even that. “I said it’s not your business,” she repeated, slower this time, each word pressing harder than the last.

A beat passed.

Then another.

The air between them thickened, tension stretching tight enough to snap.

And still—he stayed.

The words hung there, firm, final—meant to end it.

Axel didn’t move. Didn’t step back. Didn’t look away. Didn’t give her the space she was demanding without saying it outright. If anything, he leaned into it. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice lower now, steadier in a way that made it harder to dismiss. “That’s what you keep telling yourself.”

Harmony’s eyes flashed, irritation sparking sharply and immediately. “That’s not—”

“It is,” he cut in, not raising his voice, not harsh—but firm enough to stop her anyway. “Because if it really weren’t my business, you wouldn’t be standing here trying this hard to convince me.”

That hit.

Not because it was loud.

But because it was too close to the truth.

Her jaw tightened again, something hotter flickering beneath the surface now, something that edged closer to anger than control. “You don’t get to—”

“No,” Axel said, shaking his head once, his gaze locking onto hers with something heavier behind it now. “You don’t get to do that.” There was no hesitation in him anymore. No careful distance. “You don’t get to stand there and act like none of this matters,” he continued, his voice tightening just slightly—not losing control, but losing that earlier restraint. “Like I’m just supposed to walk away when I can see that something’s not right.”

Harmony took a step back without meaning to.

Not fear.

Not quite.

Just the pressure of him—of the way he was suddenly there, present in a way she had not prepared for.

Her hand brushed the railing again behind her, grounding, steadying. “You don’t know anything about what’s right for me,” she shot back, the words sharper now, quicker. “You gave up the right to have an opinion the second you walked away.”

Axel didn’t flinch.

Didn’t argue that.

But he didn’t back down either.

His gaze dropped again—briefly—to the bruise along her jaw, then to her arm, as if he were reminding himself exactly why he was still standing here.

When his eyes lifted back to hers, something in them had shifted.

Not anger.

Something quieter.

Something more dangerous.

“I don’t need a right,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher around the edges. “Not for this.”

A beat passed.

Tight.

Unmoving.

“I see it,” he added, more quietly now, but somehow heavier. “And I’m not just going to pretend I didn’t.” The words settled between them, thick with meaning he wasn’t fully saying out loud.

Harmony’s breath hitched—just slightly, just enough to betray something before she locked it down again. Her chin lifted. Her expression hardened. “You don’t get to play protector now,” she said, each word deliberate, aimed to cut him back down to where he belonged. “You lost that role a long time ago.”

That one landed.

Hard.

Axel’s jaw flexed, something tightening behind his expression—but he didn’t look away. Didn’t retreat. “Maybe,” he admitted, the word quieter than expected. Then, he took a small step closer. Not enough to crowd her. But enough to let her know, he is there. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand here,” he continued, his voice steady again, grounded in something that wasn’t going to bend, “and let someone put their hands on you like that.”

There it was.

Clear.

Unavoidable.

He is not asking her anymore.

He is not hinting.

He is stating it.

Harmony went still.

Not backing up this time.

Not moving at all.

Because this—this wasn’t the same conversation anymore.

And for the first time since he stepped onto that porch, she did not have an immediate response at hand.

Finally, Axel backs away. “I will see you at the party,” he tells her flatly, already turning around to leave. Giving up is not something he wants to do right now, but he clearly has no choice.

In his truck, he leaves, looking into his rear-view mirror to see her still standing on the porch. There is a tug at his heart, yet he is forced to ignore it. Forced to leave her as she is.

Bonnie’s yard was already full by the time Axel stepped outside a few hours later.

Cars lined the drive and spilled down the road, laughter drifting through the warm afternoon air in waves that felt almost surreal. He hadn’t expected this many people. Not for a simple gathering. Not even for his mother.

But as he stood there, taking it all in, he realized it wasn’t just for her.

It was for him too.

Faces he had not seen in years moved through the crowd—some older, some unchanged in ways that made the time feel irrelevant. People from high school. Old friends. Familiar voices calling his name, clapping him on the back, welcoming him home as if he had never left.

It should have felt good.

And it did.

But not completely.

Because no matter how many people showed up, he kept noticing who had not.

His gaze drifted toward the driveway again, subtle but constant, like he could will her to appear if he looked long enough.

She said she was coming.

But that didn’t mean she would.

Not after this morning.

Not after everything.

“Man, you look like you’re waiting on a miracle,” Sammy muttered beside him, nudging him lightly with his shoulder.

Axel huffed out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly but not denying it. “I’m just—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sammy cut in, grinning. “We know.”

Jake stood nearby, arms crossed loosely, watching the exchange with a knowing smirk that said he wasn’t about to get involved.

Peyton, however—

Peyton had made herself very involved.

She hovered at Axel’s side like she had been assigned the role, her laughter a little too quick, her attention a little too focused. Every time he shifted, she shifted with him. Every time he tried to ease away, she found a reason to stay. “So, how long are you back for?” she asked, her tone light, but her eyes intent.

Axel gave a polite half-smile, already glancing past her toward the drive again. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Well,” she said, leaning slightly closer, “I’m sure you’ll find plenty of reasons to stay.”

Subtle.

Not subtle.

He nodded, noncommittal, already preparing to step away again when—

A car turned into the drive.

White.

Clean.

Unmistakable.

The BMW rolled in smoothly and controlled, gravel crunching beneath its tires as it came to a stop.

Sammy let out a low whistle. “Well,” he said, pushing off from where he stood, a grin spreading across his face. “Here comes trouble.” But there was affection in it. Real affection. He didn’t wait for a response, already heading down the steps toward the car like he had been waiting for this moment all day.

Axel didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

His attention locked onto the driver’s side door as it opened, his chest tightening in a way he couldn’t quite control.

Harmony stepped out.

And just like that—everything else faded.

Sammy reached her first, not giving her the chance to take more than a few steps before he scooped her up into a bear hug, lifting her clean off the ground. “Damn, woman!” he laughed, spinning her once.

Harmony let out a surprised laugh—real, unguarded—her hands bracing against his shoulders as he turned her before setting her back down. “Put me down, you i***t!” she said, though there was no real bite to it.

“I missed you, too,” he shot back easily, already slinging an arm over her shoulders as it belonged there. And just like that—she was being pulled into the crowd.

Toward him.

Axel felt it before she even reached them—that shift in the air, that quiet tightening in his chest that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with her.

Harmony stepped into the circle like she hadn’t just walked into something complicated. Like she hadn’t just seen him hours ago. Like she hadn’t told him exactly where he stood.

She didn’t look at Peyton.

Not once.

Not even by accident.

Instead, she went straight to Jake, her expression softening just slightly as she stepped into his space, wrapping her arms around him in an easy, familiar hug.

“It’s been months since you’ve come down to the creek,” Jake said as he pulled back, giving her a once-over before smiling. “You should come out tomorrow afternoon.”

Harmony smiled—genuine, but smaller now, more controlled—as she nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Her eyes flicked, just briefly—to Axel.

It wasn’t long.

Barely a second.

But it was enough.

Sammy snorted, shaking his head as he handed her a beer. “That’s a no.”

Harmony laughed softly, taking the bottle from him. “I’m being serious,” she said, elbowing him lightly, the movement easy, practiced.

But there was tension there now.

Subtle.

Buried.

Peyton caught it immediately. The grin that spread across her face was slow, deliberate, her head tilting just slightly as Harmony finally acknowledged her presence. “Well,” Peyton said sweetly, her tone laced with something far less innocent, “it must be hard to drag yourself away.”

Harmony didn’t respond right away. She twisted the cap off her beer instead, the metal giving with a soft snap before she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans like it was second nature.

“You know,” Peyton continued, her smile sharpening, “with you being so busy and all.”

There it was.

The implication hangs in the air.

Heavy.

Intentional.

Most people might have avoided it.

Deflected.

Let it slide.

Harmony didn’t.

She lifted the bottle, taking a slow sip before lowering it again, her gaze settling fully on Peyton now—calm, steady, unapologetic. “It does get busy,” she said evenly, a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips, “having to bounce certain boyfriends out every Monday night.”

The effect was immediate.

Peyton’s expression twisted, the sweetness cracking clean down the middle. “He and I are no longer together,” she snapped, her tone tightening despite her effort to keep it composed.

Harmony didn’t rush to respond.

The small, satisfied curve of her lips said enough as she took another drink, her silence louder than anything she could have added.

And just like that—the tension in the group shifted.

The tension didn’t break after Harmony’s comment.

It shifted.

Not loudly. Not all at once. But enough that people nearby slowed their conversations, their attention drifting just a little too close to the group. No one stepped in. No one interrupted.

They were listening.

And Sammy—

Sammy looked like he had just been handed front row seats. He leaned back slightly, drink in hand, his gaze moving lazily between Harmony, Axel, and Peyton, like he was tracking a game he already knew the outcome of. “Well,” he drawled, dragging the word out with a grin, “if that ain’t the most polite reunion I’ve ever seen.”

Harmony didn’t even glance at him.

Which only made it worse.

Jake shook his head under his breath, already knowing better than to interfere.

Sammy nudged Axel lightly with his elbow, lowering his voice just enough to sound like he was letting him in on something. “You know,” he said, far too casually, “she’s been doing real good for herself.”

That got her attention.

Harmony’s eyes flicked to him—sharp, warning.

Sammy saw it.

Ignored it.

“Busy as hell these days,” he added, taking a sip like he hadn’t just lit the fuse.

Axel glanced at him, then back to Harmony, something shifting in his expression. The tension was still there—but now there was something else layered into it. Curiosity. “Yeah?” he asked, his tone even. “Doing what?”

Harmony held his gaze for a moment.

Measured.

Unreadable.

She lifted her beer, taking her time with a slow sip, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it intentional.

Sammy chuckled under his breath. “Oh, you know,” he said, answering for her again, his grin widening, “running her own little empire.”

Jake let out a quiet snort.

Axel’s attention sharpened, his gaze settling fully on Harmony now. “You own your own business?” he asked.

There was no edge to it.

No judgment.

Just honest curiosity.

Harmony saw that. And for the briefest moment, something in her expression softened—so quick it could have been missed if anyone wasn’t looking for it. Then it was gone. “Yes,” she said simply.

Sammy gave an impressed whistle, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t let her undersell it,” he added, glancing at Axel. “She built that from nothing.”

“Sammy—” Harmony warned, though there was no real heat behind it.

“What?” he shot back, laughing. “I’m proud of you.”

And that—that was true.

Peyton shifted then, her arms crossing loosely as she tilted her head, that familiar, too-sweet smile sliding into place. “Oh, we all remember,” she said, her voice smooth, carrying just enough to draw a few more ears in. “How the whole town was at each other’s throats over it.”

The air changed.

Subtly.

But undeniably.

“Nearly a year of protests,” she continued, her tone light, but her words anything but. “People losing their minds, acting like the world was ending.” A pause. Then— “And now?” she added, glancing around as if to include everyone within earshot. “Four years later, and everybody just… pretends it doesn’t exist.” Her gaze slid back to Harmony, sharper now. “Like it’s some filthy little secret.”

Silence followed.

Thicker this time.

Heavier.

Because she wasn’t entirely wrong.

And everyone there knew it.

Axel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze shifting between them, the pieces not quite fitting together—but close enough to make him aware that something bigger sat just beneath the surface.

Harmony, however—Harmony smiled.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

And there was nothing soft about it.

It wasn’t defensive.

It wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was amused.

Like Peyton had just handed her something instead of taking anything away.

That grin spread just enough to show teeth—sharp, unapologetic, a little dangerous.

If Peyton thought she had embarrassed her, she had miscalculated.

“Funny,” Harmony said, her voice smooth, almost conversational, as she took another slow sip of her beer. “For something everyone pretends doesn’t exist…” She let the moment hang. Just for a second. Then her gaze swept lightly across the yard—over the people who weren’t looking but absolutely were. “…it seems to stay on everyone’s mind.”

That landed.

Clean.

Precise.

A few people shifted uncomfortably. Others looked away entirely, suddenly very interested in their drinks.

Sammy let out a low laugh, clearly entertained.

Jake smirked.

Peyton’s smile tightened—just a fraction.

And Axel—Axel was still watching her.

But now?

Now there was something else in his expression.

Not just curiosity.

Not just confusion.

Something deeper.

Something like a realization that there was a whole part of her life that he knew nothing about.

The silence didn’t settle right after Harmony spoke.

It shifted again—uneasy this time, like something had been said a little too plainly, a little too close to the truth people preferred to keep buried.

A few conversations tried to pick back up around them, but they lacked the same ease as before. Eyes still lingered. Ears still tilted in their direction.

Harmony didn’t seem to care. She stood there, beer in hand, that faint, devilish curve still playing at her lips as she had already won something no one else realized they were competing for.

Peyton’s smile had tightened—just slightly—but it was enough to show the hit had landed.

Axel, however, hadn’t moved. His gaze remained fixed on Harmony, his brow drawn just enough to show the shift happening behind his eyes. Pieces were there now—fragments of something bigger—, but they didn’t quite connect yet.

Not fully.

Not clearly.

Sammy noticed. Of course he did. And because he was who he was, he couldn’t leave it alone. He rocked back on his heels, dragging a hand over his jaw like he was thinking, though the glint in his eye said otherwise. His gaze flicked to Axel, then back to Harmony, like he was weighing just how much he could get away with.

The answer?

Probably a lot.

“You know what I think is funny?” Sammy said, tone light, almost thoughtful.

Harmony didn’t even look at him this time. “Sammy—”

“Relax,” he cut in, grinning. “I’m not outing you, I swear.”

Jake let out a quiet laugh, already shaking his head.

That got Axel’s attention. His gaze shifted to Sammy now, sharper, more focused. “Outing her for what?” he asked.

There it was.

The opening.

Sammy’s grin widened just a fraction. “Nothing bad,” he said quickly, holding his hands up like he was innocent in all this. “Just… not exactly the kind of thing this town likes to brag about in daylight.”

That didn’t help.

At all.

Axel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his attention flicking back to Harmony, searching now instead of just observing.

Harmony finally looked at Sammy again.

This time, there was a warning in it.

Clear.

Measured.

“Careful,” she said quietly.

Sammy met her gaze, unbothered, but there was something else there too—something that said he wasn’t trying to hurt her. Just… poke her. And maybe stir things a little. He glanced back at Axel, tilting his head slightly. “Let’s just say,” he continued, his tone dropping a notch, more deliberate now, “if you’d stuck around, you probably would’ve heard about it.”

A beat.

Then—

“Hell,” he added with a small shrug, “you might’ve even tried to stop her.”