Hometown

Chapter Nine

Hunter.

Of course, it comes back to Hunter.

It always does when it comes to Harmony.

Jake has never quite been able to make sense of the two of them. Even now, after everything that has happened, after lines that should have stayed uncrossed were not just crossed but blurred beyond recognition, they are still there—still close, still moving around each other like gravity never loosened its hold. Best friends, they call it. Like that word is enough to contain whatever history sits between them.

Jake doesn’t buy it. Never has.

He thinks about the way Hunter used to look at Axel sometimes, that crooked grin tugging at his mouth, eyes bright with mischief and something just a little too sharp to be harmless.

If you ever screw up, man, I’ll take her off your hands.

Always said like a joke. Always followed by a laugh.

Axel would laugh too. Clap him on the shoulder. Toss something back just as easily.

Like it wasn’t a loaded gun being passed back and forth between them.

Jake’s fingers curl loosely against his knee as his gaze drifts back to Harmony, searching her face like he might find the answer written there if he looks hard enough.

He wonders—can’t help himself—if Axel had laughed tonight too.

If Harmony had stood there, laying something life-altering at his feet, and Axel had just… smiled like it didn’t cut.

Or worse—

If he hadn’t laughed at all.

Jake shifts slightly on the log, the wood creaking under his weight, finally dragging his attention fully onto her instead of circling the question like a coward. His voice, when it comes, is quieter than usual. Less edge. More intent. “Question,” he says, glancing at her but not holding it long, like he is giving her room to ignore him if she wants to. A beat passes—the fire crackles. Somewhere behind them, May shifts but doesn’t interrupt. Jake leans forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, eyes on the flames as he adds, more pointed this time— “When are you gonna tell him the rest of it?”

He doesn’t say Axel’s name. He doesn’t have to.

The words settle between them, heavier than they should be, carrying everything he didn’t ask out loud—what exactly did you tell him? What did you leave out? And how long do you think that’s gonna hold?

Jake flicks a glance back at her, then, sharper now, more searching. “Or…” he continues, a faint, humorless huff of breath slipping out, “you already did, and he just took it better than any of us would?”

There is something almost challenging in that, like he is daring her to confirm it, to prove Axel is just built differently like that.

Or to admit—he isn’t.

Harmony doesn’t answer right away.

For a second, Jake thinks she might brush him off, let the question die out there in the dark with the rest of the things no one wants to say too loud. Her gaze stays fixed on the fire, watching the flames curl and snap around the logs like they’re telling her something she is still deciding whether or not to listen to.

Then she exhales—slow, steady—and tilts her head just enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye.

“I did,” she says simply.

No hesitation. No softening.

Jake’s brow furrows, not because he didn’t expect an answer, but because of how clean that one is. No dodging. No dancing around it. He straightens slightly, turning more toward her. “Did… what?” he presses, quieter now, like maybe if he lowers his voice it’ll somehow make the answer less heavy.

Harmony finally looks at him fully, and there’s something in her expression that settles it before she even opens her mouth again. Not guilt. Not fear.

Certainty.

“I told him everything,” she says.

The words land with a dull, solid weight.

Jake blinks once, like his brain needs a second to catch up with what his ears just heard. “Everything,” he repeats, slower, testing it like maybe it’ll mean something different the second time around.

Harmony nods once.

“When it started,” she adds, her voice still even, still controlled in a way that almost makes it worse. “How long did it go on. All of it.”

Jake just… stares at her.

For a moment, there’s nothing. No clever remark. No half-joking deflection. Just a blank stretch where his thoughts should be lining up and instead are tripping over each other trying to make sense of what kind of man hears something like that and doesn’t immediately—

What?

Explode?

Walk away?

Lose his mind?

His gaze flicks again toward the trees, toward the direction Axel disappeared in, as the man might suddenly reappear with the answer written all over his face.

But there is nothing. Just darkness and the distant sound of Sammy’s voice carrying through it, loud and unbothered, like the world hasn’t shifted on its axis.

Jake drags a hand down his face, exhaling through his teeth. “Jesus, Har…” he mutters, not even sure what part of this he’s reacting to anymore—the confession, Axel’s apparent reaction, or the fact that she’s sitting here like she didn’t just drop a live grenade into the middle of everything.

His mind moves fast now, faster than he lets on, already jumping ahead to the aftermath, to the ripple effect. Because this isn’t just about Axel and Harmony. It never is.

It’s about history.

Friendships.

Lines that were already too damn thin.

He knows Axel. Knows the way he buries things until they rot. Knows that silence from him isn’t always peace—it’s pressure.

And pressure like that?

It doesn’t ease out.

It blows.

Jake’s jaw tightens as he leans back slightly, eyes narrowing toward the fire like he’s staring down the future and not liking a single version of it.

He needs to talk to Axel.

Not here. Not like this.

Not with Harmony sitting three feet away and May pretending not to listen.

Alone.

Before this turns into something that tears straight through the middle of all of them and leaves nothing but fallout behind.

The sound of footsteps crunching through leaves pulls his attention up just in time to see Axel and Sammy emerging from the trees, arms full of wood. Sammy’s already halfway into another loud, slurred retelling of the fight, his words tripping over each other as he gestures wildly with a piece of kindling like it’s a damn microphone.

“—I’m tellin’ you, man, she came outta nowhere—BAM—like, Peyton didn’t even—”

“Sit down before you hurt yourself,” Jake cuts in dryly, pushing up to his feet before Sammy can finish whatever exaggerated version of events he’s about to unleash.

Sammy blinks at him, swaying slightly where he stands. “I’m fine,” he insists, immediately proving otherwise when he nearly trips over his own foot trying to step forward.

Jake doesn’t even argue. He just jerks his chin toward the log. “Sit,” he repeats, firmer this time.

Sammy squints at him like he is considering a debate, then shrugs and drops down onto the log with all the grace of a falling tree. “Bossy,” he mutters, already reaching for another shot like the last ten didn’t happen.

Jake doesn’t spare him another glance.

His focus shifts to Axel, who’s stacking the wood down beside the fire, movements steady, unhurried. Too steady.

Too normal.

That, more than anything, sets something off in Jake’s gut. “C’mon,” Jake says, nodding toward the tree line again as he steps past him, already grabbing a couple of the larger pieces left on the ground. “I’ll help you grab the last load.”

It’s casual. Easy. Nothing in his tone that gives anything away.

Just another chore. Another trip into the dark.

But as he passes Axel, there’s a brief look—quick, sharp, intentional.

One that says we need a second.

One that doesn’t ask.

It tells.

And without waiting for an answer, Jake turns and heads back toward the trees, trusting—hoping—Axel will follow.

The last log thuds onto the pile with a dull thunk, the only sound breaking the quiet except for the occasional snap of embers from the fire. Jake sets his hands on his knees, letting the warmth settle into his palms, and watches Axel straighten, brushing dirt from his shirt like he’s still pretending nothing has changed.

Jake clears his throat. “Look… Harmony told me what she admitted to you back at your truck,” he begins, casual, low, letting the words settle between them like stones in a stream. “I figured you should hear someone say it… than let it linger in the shadows.”

Axel pauses mid-step, one hand on a log. His eyes flick to Jake, sharp but not hostile. There’s that familiar tilt to his head, that posture Jake knows means he’s weighing every word before responding.

Jake keeps going. “I’m not here to… analyze or interrogate. Just… wanted to make sure you knew I know. And maybe talk about it, if that’s something you need.”

Axel lets out a short, dry laugh. “You never let anything linger, do you?”

“Not my style,” Jake says. “Shadows make things ugly in the end. Better to bring it all into the light before it burns someone anyway.”

Axel sets the log down on the pile, dusting off his hands, and finally meets Jake’s gaze fully. “Right. So… she told me everything. Back then. How long, when it happened… all of it.”

Jake nods, feeling the tension in his chest loosen slightly. He waits, letting Axel decide what comes next.

“She didn’t wait for me,” Axel mutters, almost to himself. The words hang there, heavy but quiet. “I… didn’t expect that. Honestly… I thought maybe I’d come back and she’d… be with someone else. Maybe even married.”

Jake leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, letting the silence stretch just long enough. “And? How did that land?” he asks gently, but with the steady insistence only Jake can manage. “You sound… calm. But I know you. That calm doesn’t always mean fine.”

Axel chuckles again, a little hollow this time. “It’s… complicated. I left, Jake. Seven years. I walked away. I don’t have the right to be angry or upset about anything she did while I was gone. I thought I would be angry. I thought I’d hate that she… lived while I was away. But…” His voice drops, the laugh slipping off entirely. “I didn’t expect her to wait. Not for me. Not after everything I left behind.”

Jake nods, silent. He doesn’t interrupt. He’s the friend who lets the other man spill, but he’s also the one who will hold you accountable if you need it.

Axel shifts, gaze falling to the fire. “I guess… I expected chaos. I expected tension, maybe even fights. But she… she handled it. All of it. Like… like she’s always been stronger than I gave her credit for.”

“Yeah,” Jake says softly. “She’s always been strong. You’re just realizing she’s strong in ways that… mess with your expectations.”

Axel glances at him, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Mess with my expectations…” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I was prepared to come back and find her… someone else’s. And instead…”

Jake watches him closely, waiting.

“Instead,” Axel finishes, voice almost a whisper now, “she waited. Not just… waited. She didn’t stop living, didn’t pause her life for me. She just… let me come back into it. Like she always had a choice. And… I… I don’t know how to process that.”

Jake smirks faintly. “You’re processing it the way I thought you would,” he says. “Slowly. Quietly. But honestly. That’s better than pretending as if nothing happened, anyway.”

Axel lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing fractionally. “Yeah. Better than pretending.”

Jake claps him on the shoulder, firm but not heavy-handed. “Exactly. Now… let’s finish grabbing the rest of these logs before Sammy destroys whatever’s left of the fire.”

Axel shakes his head, chuckling, but the weight in his eyes has shifted. He is not free of it yet. But for the first time since Jake returned to town, Axel’s presence feels… grounded. Not explosive, not dangerous. Just… ready to face what comes next.

The last of the logs rests on the pile. The fire crackles, sending little sparks into the night air, and for a long moment, neither of them moves. Jake leans against a tree, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Axel, letting the pause stretch just long enough to make the next words land.

“So…” Jake starts, casual but precise. “Are you… angry with Hunter?”

Axel doesn’t answer. He just shifts his weight, brushing a hand over the last log as if it will somehow absorb the question. Jake watches him carefully, not pressing yet—he knows Axel, knows when to push and when to let a man wrestle with himself.

After a beat, Jake shakes his head. “You can’t be mad at him either, can you?” he says, half rhetorical, half warning. “I mean… that’s just not you.”

Axel finally lifts his gaze, meeting Jake’s. His eyes are steady, but there is a tightness in his jaw, a shadow that Jake knows means he is thinking deeper than he lets on. He shakes his head slowly. “I’m not angry with him either,” Axel admits, voice low, even. But there’s a pause, a slight exhale, and then, “But I’m not happy. Not… really.”

Jake nods once, silently acknowledging the truth without pushing. Then, with a quiet edge, he adds, “You figured that might be why no one talks about her. Why, when you had come back… and everyone’s tiptoeing around it. You half-expected her to be married to Hunter, didn’t you?”

Axel lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if to dispel something heavier. “Yeah,” he says, quiet now, almost to himself. “I thought… maybe she had moved on completely. Maybe married him, maybe—” He cuts himself off with a shrug, letting the unspoken finish the sentence.

Jake studies him for a moment, letting the weight of that settle in. “But she didn’t,” Jake says softly. “She waited. She didn’t stop her life—she didn’t pause anything. She just… let you come back into it.”

Axel’s shoulders dip slightly, a tiny release of tension he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I… didn’t expect that. Not after seven years away. Not after leaving everything behind. Not after… thinking she might be… gone from me in every way.”

Jake leans back against the log, quiet for a beat, letting the firelight catch in Axel’s profile. “So, you’re not angry,” he says. “With her, with Hunter… not really with anyone. You’re just… figuring it out? That’s all.”

Axel nods slowly, letting the truth linger in the night air like smoke curling above the fire. “Figuring it out,” he repeats, voice quieter this time. “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”

Jake claps him lightly on the shoulder. “Good,” he says, standing. “Then let’s finish this before Sammy burns it all down.”

Axel lets out a small laugh, the first genuine one Jake’s heard all night. Not full relief, not yet. But a crack in the armor, enough to let the firelight in.

The night had softened around them, the chill easing just enough for the heat from the fires lining the creek bank to reach their skin. People’s laughter and the occasional clink of bottles floated faintly on the breeze, but Axel felt like they were in their own world as he led Harmony toward a clearing near the largest fire. A slow country song drifted over from a truck parked near the edge of the trees, the melody almost lazy, as if it had all the time in the world to pull them closer.

A few other fires had sprung up along the bank, small pockets of warmth where others had gathered, talking or drinking or dancing themselves into the night. Peyton had stayed close to her friends, no longer testing the waters tonight. Her lip was busted, her cheek swollen, and the fight earlier had clearly taken more out of her than anyone expected. Axel didn’t glance back; the world beyond this clearing didn’t exist right now.

Harmony’s hand found his, a little unsteady, and she allowed him to pull her closer. He expected resistance, maybe teasing, maybe a shake of her head—but she didn’t fight him. Not at all.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, just above the hum of the song, his voice low, amused but soft.

She nodded, head resting lightly against his shoulder for a fraction of a second. “I think… I am a little drunk,” she admitted, her speech slurring around the words, but the smile tugging at her lips was genuine.

Axel let out a soft laugh through his nose, more amused than mocking. “Now I know why you’re dancing with me,” he said, adjusting his hold so she fit more comfortably against him, careful not to crush her small frame in his much larger one.

Harmony tilted her chin up from his chest, her amber eyes catching the flicker of the firelight, glinting with mischief. “Actually,” she said, a teasing drawl to her words, “I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask me.”

Axel’s chest tightened, just a little, at the honesty in her tone. It wasn’t just the alcohol, wasn’t just the laughter or the chaos around them—it was a moment that had been waiting, stretched taut over years. He hadn’t expected her to let him lead her like this, to melt against him with such careless trust, but it made the warmth in his chest grow just a little fiercer.

He adjusted their hold again, hands on her waist now, letting her meld against him completely. She swayed gently, letting the rhythm of the slow song guide them. Her head rested near his shoulder, a little lighter than she was, a little more pliant than he’d ever seen her, and it stole a small, unexpected laugh from him. “You’re heavier than I thought,” he teased softly, not serious, just a brush of humor to the edge of the moment.

She laughed, small, breathy, the sound catching in his chest. “You’re taller than I remember,” she shot back, her grin pressed against his shirt. “But I like it.”

For a heartbeat, the night disappeared entirely. There was no creek, no firelight, no chaos of other people—they were alone in a circle of their own making, spinning slowly to the music, bodies pressed close enough that Axel could feel every careful breath she took.

“You’ve waited a long time,” he murmured, almost against her hair, the words soft but deliberate. “Not just tonight… all this time.”

Her lips pressed against his chest in a fleeting, slurred smile. “Yeah,” she said simply, letting the honesty linger in the warmth between them. “But it was worth it.”

Axel inhaled sharply through his nose, a laugh that was barely there escaping again.

And for just a moment, the world stayed quiet around them—the song winding on, the fires flickering, the distant hum of people fading away. All that remained was the sway of their bodies, the closeness of their warmth, and a kind of calm Axel hadn’t realized he’d been craving for years.

“What about… your boyfriend?” Axel asked carefully, careful not to say the name Jake had let slip earlier, like testing a fragile line in the dark.

“Huh?” Harmony blinked, her speech slightly slurred from the drinks, as if she had forgotten the very existence of Dillan. “Dillan?” she asked, uncertain, as though the name had no real weight anymore.

“I broke it off with him yesterday morning…” she admitted, quieter now, her voice trailing off as the memory of the fight they’d had the night before brushed across her thoughts. “…before I knew you were coming home. We had gotten into a fight that night…” She realized too late she was revealing more than she meant to. Her pulse quickened as she felt Axel’s muscles tense against her back, subtle but undeniable, and her chest pinched with a sudden, sharp guilt.

“He’s no one worth remembering—or dwelling over,” she added quickly, hoping the words would calm the tension she had just stirred, her voice a mix of reassurance and apology. Her fingers curled a little tighter around his waist, drawing him closer, letting him feel her attempt at easing the shadow she had just thrown between them. With him drinking, the last thing she wanted was to get him riled.

Axel didn’t answer. He just held her a little tighter, the press of his chest and the strength in his arms grounding her in a way that made her heartbeat slow, even as her mind raced.

After a moment, she tried to shift the focus, letting the warmth of his body and the sound of his steady breathing lead the conversation. “Tell me about the Air Force,” she suggested sweetly, tilting her head back to rest lightly against his chest.

Axel adjusted her slightly in his arms, holding her close without breaking their rhythm. “The classes…” he began, voice low, deliberate, steady, almost intimate in its cadence. “Every craft we had to master before we could fly. It was brutal. Hours of theory, simulations, and physical training. And then… the flights themselves. The first time I got airborne—it was terrifying, but it was everything I’d imagined and more.”

Harmony’s fingers tightened around his shirt, listening, soaking it all in. She let him talk, letting the sound of his voice carry her away from the lingering tension she’d created. He told her about the tours he had flown, the missions that had tested every skill he had, and then—careful not to leave out the moments that had nearly broken him—the near-mishap with the enemy he’d thought they would never get out of alive.

She could feel every subtle shift of his muscles beneath her fingers as he relived the experiences, the small tensing and relaxing, the way he held himself as though bracing against ghosts she couldn’t see. Her honey eyes traced the lines of his face, memorizing the set of his jaw, the tilt of his head, the quiet control he maintained even when recounting danger.

All the while, Harmony was absorbing every word of the last seven years she hadn’t been able to hear from anyone else. The pain, the fear, the triumph, the lonely stretches of nights he’d endured—they all poured from his voice, and she let herself feel it fully, even as her head rested against his chest, even as her body melted into his warmth.

She had not expected him to be this open, this present. And as the firelight flickered across the clearing, the slow country song winding on in the distance, Harmony realized she could stay like this, right here, absorbing him and the years they had lost, and let it be enough—for now.

“It… almost sounds a little lonely,” Harmony murmured, her frown faint but audible in her slurred words.

Axel paused mid-step, adjusting her lightly in his arms as the slow country song carried over from the truck. “What do you mean?” he asked, a trace of genuine puzzlement in his voice, his brow faintly furrowed.

Harmony tipped her head up, letting her honey-colored eyes meet his. Searching, curious, almost hesitant. “Did you… Not date anyone while you were away?”

Axel exhaled, shifting slightly, one hand brushing lightly down her back, steadying her as she swayed in time with the music. “I did,” he admitted quietly, voice low, careful. “But… it was exhausting.”

He let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he traced a slow line across her shoulder. “Meeting her… getting to know her… her likes, her dislikes, her routines. Only for it not to work out, and then doing the same thing all over again with another woman. I just… gave up. One-night stands became the norm for me,” he continued, almost to himself, as though confessing the truth softened the edges of the loneliness he had carried all these years. His hand drifted to the small of her back, fingertips tracing a careful rhythm, grounding both of them.

Harmony snorted, a breathy, drunken little laugh escaping her. “That is terrible, Axel,” she said, letting her grin press against his chest. Her voice was light, teasing, but there was also that drunken honesty that always made him laugh inwardly.

He shrugged, a small, almost sheepish gesture, but didn’t loosen his hold on her. Not for a second. “It was honest,” he said simply, voice steady. “At least… on my end of it.”

Harmony tilted her head slightly, resting it just a little more against his chest. She pressed closer, letting out a faint, incredulous laugh. “I can’t believe you actually went through all of that… and you didn’t call me, not once,” she said softly, almost whispering against the fabric of his shirt.

Axel’s lips curved faintly, though it wasn’t a full smile—it was a quiet acknowledgment of what she could not possibly understand fully. “I didn’t want… anyone else to matter while I was thinking about what I left behind,” he admitted, voice low. “But I couldn’t… not you.”

Harmony felt a flush rise to her cheeks, her fingers clutching his shirt lightly, trying to absorb both the warmth of his chest and the weight of his words. “Axel…” she breathed, unsure what else to say. Her head lifted just enough to catch his gaze, violet eyes glinting with firelight and something softer beneath it all.

He leaned down slightly, resting his forehead against hers for a heartbeat, careful and deliberate. “I didn’t… I didn’t know if you’d still be here,” he murmured. “If you’d waited, or if you’d moved on completely.”

Harmony let out a faint laugh, more nervous than anything, letting it be carried away by the wind over the creek. “I waited,” she admitted simply, the words soft but unwavering even through the alcohol.

Axel held her a fraction tighter, a subtle squeeze, as if to reassure himself that this was real. That she was here. That she hadn’t been waiting for nothing. “You know,” he said quietly, brushing a lock of hair from her face, “one-night stands… that’s a terrible way to feel alive. I’d forgotten what it felt like to really care about someone. Until now.”

Harmony smiled faintly against his chest, tilting her head to catch his gaze. “Well… lucky for you, I’m still here,” she whispered, a teasing edge to her words but the truth threading through every syllable.

Axel’s chest lifted in a soft laugh, low and intimate, letting the honesty hang in the quiet of the clearing, over the firelight and the distant country song, as they swayed slowly together.

Axel’s breath caught in his chest for a moment, the firelight flickering over Harmony’s face, over her small frame pressed against him. He held her just a little tighter, careful not to smother her, but unable to resist the pull of all the years that had stacked up inside him. “You have no idea…” he began, voice low, almost breaking, “…how many nights I spent staring at the ceiling… thinking about you.”

Harmony tilted her head, curious, concerned, but didn’t pull away. She let him speak, letting the warmth of his chest seep into her, steady and unyielding.