Hometown

Chapter Seven

Back home that afternoon, Harmony lingered in front of the mirror in her master bedroom, studying her reflection as if it might reveal some clue she hadn’t noticed before. She had spent the entire day ignoring Dillan’s relentless calls and texts, each ping on her phone a small spike of irritation she refused to entertain. So far, he hadn’t appeared at her house, at least not that she could tell, and for once she felt a flicker of relief that the morning’s chaos hadn’t spilled into the afternoon.

She shook her head lightly, a self-conscious smile tugging at her lips. Here she was, picking out an outfit to wear to the creek, as if she were a normal girl with normal routines. She perched on the edge of her bed, rubbing her temples. The reflection staring back at her was hardly “normal.”

She tugged at a pair of cut-off denim shorts, the worn fabric revealing the delicate feather tattoo along the side of her thigh. A black spaghetti strap top clung lightly to her frame, showing off the ink that trailed across her upper arms, shoulder blades, and down her back. The combination of tattoos, cut-offs, and casual top gave her a sense of herself she rarely wore outside the club, but that same sense also reminded her that she had spent years in a world where casual didn’t really exist—where every outfit, every move, every gesture was curated, calculated, performed.

Her blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, brushing against the inked skin as she leaned forward to grab her sandals from the floor. Standing back up, she took a slow, measured look at herself, tilting her head, adjusting her top. Despite her casual intentions, she realized with a small, wry laugh that she still carried the aura of the stage—the magnetic, bold energy that made her presence impossible to ignore. Even her relaxed stance didn’t hide it. She was used to being noticed, and perhaps a little part of her thrived on it, even when no one was watching.

Harmony felt a brief pang of self-awareness. Dressing “normal” seemed almost foreign now. It had been years since she had simply existed in clothes that weren’t meant to make someone look, to provoke, to tempt. She slid her feet into the worn sandals and grabbed her keys from the dresser, the metallic jingle a small, grounding reminder that she could leave on her own terms.

Stepping out the door, she took a deep breath, the warm air of late afternoon brushing against her skin, scented faintly with the nearby woods and the faint, tangy smell of the creek. It was the first time in years she had been returning to the dirty creek, the place that had once been hers and Axel’s—a place that had held so many memories, both sweet and jagged.

Harmony paused at her BMW, keys in hand, letting her gaze wander across the familiar stretch of road that led to the water. Her heart thumped lightly, not from fear, but from anticipation. For the first time in a long time, she was stepping into the world outside the club entirely as herself, unguarded, unchoreographed. And somehow, that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

With one final glance at the house behind her, she slid into her car, started the engine, and headed toward the creek, the sunlight catching the edge of her feather tattoo as she drove, a small, quiet emblem of freedom she was still learning to claim for herself.

Harmony’s BMW eased onto the dirt path leading to the creek, tires crunching softly over the gravel and scattered leaves. As she approached the familiar tree line, her eyes immediately caught the telltale flash of blonde hair and the angle of Axel’s broad frame. Peyton, of course, was there, hovering close, arms crossed, trying desperately to make herself the center of his attention. Sammy and Jake were nearby, but her gaze honed in on Axel as he noticed her first, his head tilting slightly as he scanned the clearing.

Before Peyton could react, Axel slipped from the group and started toward her, moving with that familiar quiet confidence that made Harmony’s heart skip, even after all these years. Peyton’s lips pressed into a thin line, arms tightening over her chest, but she didn’t follow. She watched him drift across the grass toward Harmony, powerless to stop him.

Harmony stepped out from the trees, letting the warmth of the summer sun settle over her shoulders. The light danced across the tops of the surrounding trees, gilding the creek in gold as country music floated lazily from a truck parked nearby. The bank was scattered with clusters of people laughing, talking, and sipping drinks—a lazy, summer kind of chaos that somehow felt just like home.

Sammy, never one to let a moment slip by, handed Harmony a shot as she approached. “Here you go,” he said with a grin, the amber liquid catching the sunlight as he slid it across his palm. She took it with a small laugh, lifting it to her lips with the ease of someone who had been in more precarious situations than this.

“Finally,” May said, pulling her into a quick hug before moving to grab a beer for herself. “You’ve got to come see the new pool! Henry even added a bar this year.”

Harmony chuckled, taking a slow sip from her beer. “I should have more time off now that I’ve found a manager I can actually trust to run the club when I want to take a break,” she replied, her tone casual, masking the subtle thrill of freedom that came with it. She barely glanced at Peyton, who was still trying to anchor Axel’s attention. He managed to slip from her grasp with ease, and Harmony laughed softly at the sight, shaking her head.

May followed her line of sight, emerald eyes narrowing in quiet amusement. “That’s pathetic. Could you imagine?”

Harmony pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh… let’s not start a fight tonight,” she whispered, her tone a mix of warning and playfulness.

May rolled her eyes, giving a small, knowing smile before returning her gaze to Peyton, who was still fuming silently, stuck on the sidelines of Axel’s attention. “Just like high school,” May murmured, turning back to Harmony, her voice soft with the mix of nostalgia and exasperation. “Some things never change.”

Harmony let the words sink in, the sounds of the creek and summer sun wrapping around her. For the first time in a long while, she felt grounded—present in a world that had once been chaotic, dangerous, and beautiful all at once. And now, with Axel moving closer through the grass toward her, she realized that some connections, some ties, never really faded, no matter how much time had passed.

As time drifted on, everyone settles around the fire.

The smoke floats across the clearing, casting warm shadows over the cooler and the folding table where bottles and shot glasses sat scattered. Harmony’s hands were steady as she poured the next round, amber liquid glinting in the firelight. She kept her eyes on the glass long enough to make a show of it, just so Peyton could notice, just so she could feel the shift of power in the air.

Peyton, of course, had to keep up. She matched Harmony shot for shot, her confidence radiating like she was already winning, but Harmony could see the cracks—the slight twitch in her jaw, the flicker of envy in her ocean-blue eyes. Peyton had always wanted the things she couldn’t have, and Axel… Axel was always her ultimate target. Harmony smiled faintly to herself. She could drag Peyton under the table if she wanted, but she didn’t need to.

“I have been hearing a lot about you, Harmony. Mainly with the arrests. But, I had figured you were arrested for doing more than stripping,” Peyton said, tilting her head back, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Her tone was casual, but her gaze cut sharp. “Not like I need to know the details, but… I guess it explains some things.”

Here we go.

Peyton wasted no time in her attacks.

Axel, Sammy, Jake and May silently glance between the two.

Harmony’s honey-colored eyes narrowed just slightly. She set the bottle down with a soft thud, deliberately letting the pause hang. She leaned back, taking her time, letting the firelight catch the curve of her smile before she finally spoke. “No, sweetheart,” she said, her tone smooth, measured. “But if you want, I can show you how to properly please your man.”

Peyton blinked once, her smirk faltering. She leaned in, trying to make the moment hers.

Harmony tilted her head, her grin widening, honey and steel all at once. “Or,” she said slowly, savoring each syllable, “you could bring him by the club. I’ll give him a private show—visually, of course—so when he has to come home to you, at least he’ll know what he’s been missing. After all, you’ve always been better at wanting my leftovers than taking the real thing.”

The words landed with a snap.

Sammy nearly fell backward in his chair, beer halfway to his mouth, laughing so hard he had to catch himself.

Jake choked quietly, his eyes wide, muttering something under his breath.

The crackle of the fire seemed to dim in the chaos of Peyton’s expression.

Peyton’s jaw dropped. Her pale, carefully manicured fingers flexed at her sides as her face twisted into disbelief and fury. That fake composure she had been cultivating all night shattered in an instant.

Axel didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He simply stood beside Harmony, jaw tight, eyes steady on Peyton. He didn’t need to speak. Harmony was doing exactly what he knew she could: dismantling the person who had spent years trying to edge her out.

Harmony, for her part, didn’t break eye contact. She lifted her shot glass, gave it a soft clink against Sammy’s, and downed it with smooth precision. She set it back down and let the firelight catch her smile again, that same deadly mixture of amusement and pride.

Peyton stepped back, flustered, as if the mere space could protect her from Harmony’s sharp edges. Axel exhaled through his nose, letting a small line of tension leave him—but his eyes didn’t leave Harmony, not once.

Sammy muttered a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief.

Jake let out a loud, almost helpless laugh.

Harmony leaned back slightly, the warm night air brushing her hair across her shoulders, and smiled faintly. That was all she needed. The message had been delivered—clear, savage, and devastatingly hilarious.

And in that moment, the alcohol, the fire, the history—the club, the birthday party, the creek—everything converged. Harmony was untouchable, Peyton had just been served a perfectly wrapped slice of truth, and Axel… well, Axel had front-row seats to watch it all.

Peyton’s arms crossed, her posture rigid as she turned her gaze sharply toward Axel. “I never thought you were that kind of guy.”

Axel shifted slightly, moving his arm away as she tried to draw him closer. Harmony, unbothered, took another shot, the smooth burn matching the smirk that curved her lips.

“He will never be yours, Peyton,” Harmony said casually, her voice carrying over the crackle of the fire.

Peyton snapped her gaze toward Harmony, incredulous. “And you believe he’s yours?”

Harmony shrugged, her tone teasing but pointed. “I don’t have to believe anything.”

Peyton’s gaze narrowed, her frustration simmering. “He was never yours either,” she spat, her tone sharp now, tinged with the bitterness of years of rejection and envy. “Hence why he left you behind for seven years.”

May gasps in disbelief that Peyton was brave enough to utter those words.

Harmony rose smoothly from the cooler, the height difference emphasizing her confidence.

Axel instinctively stepped forward, following her motion, a protective shadow in her orbit. “That is enough,” he said finally, voice firm and low. His gaze was pointed more at Peyton than at Harmony, a quiet boundary set. The words carried a weight that made the night feel heavier, more permanent.

Harmony tilted her head slightly, a faint, victorious smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, letting the moment linger just long enough to settle the score.

Peyton’s posture stiffened, and for once, she looked less like the one in control and more like a guest at a table she had not been invited to.

The tension snapped before anyone could say another word.

Harmony didn’t hesitate. She stood up and stepped forward, closing the small space between her and Axel in a single, decisive movement, her hand catching the front of his shirt and pulling him down toward her.

And then she kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was sharp, claiming, fueled by alcohol and adrenaline and years of everything left unsaid. The kind of kiss that made a statement before either of them could think better of it.

Axel stilled for half a second—just long enough for the shock to register.

He did not pull away. His hand came up instinctively, settling at her waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of her top as if grounding himself in the reality of her. The world around them—the fire, the laughter, Peyton, everything—fell away into a dull, distant hum.

For a moment, it was just them.

Seven years of distance collapsing into something immediate and undeniable.

Sammy let out a low, disbelieving whistle. Jake muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “holy s**t”, but neither of them moved, both watching like they’d just witnessed something they were not supposed to.

May giggles, covering her mouth.

Peyton, however, went completely still. The color drained from her face as the reality of it settled in—not flirting, not tension, not history being hinted at—but something real, something physical, something she couldn’t twist or compete with in words anymore.

Harmony was the one who pulled back first.

Not far. Just enough.

Her hand still curled in Axel’s shirt, her breath slightly uneven, her lips parted as she held his gaze. That same dangerous, satisfied edge lingered in her expression—but there was something else there now, something quieter, more vulnerable, buried just beneath the surface.

Axel didn’t step away.

If anything, he leaned in just slightly, his forehead almost brushing hers, his hand still firm at her waist as his eyes searched hers like he was trying to figure out if that had just been for show… or something far more dangerous.

The fire cracked loudly behind them, snapping the world back into place.

But nothing about the moment felt the same anymore.

Harmony didn’t move right away.

She stayed there, her hand still curled in the front of Axel’s shirt, her fingers tightening slightly as she stared up into his eyes. The fire behind her reflected in them, turning them molten—dark, unsteady, something close to restraint barely holding.

At first, the kiss had been a statement. A weapon. A way to shut Peyton down without another word.

But now…

Now her heart was pounding.

And she was not entirely sure it was for show anymore.

Her gaze flickered briefly to his mouth, then back to his eyes, searching—hesitating for the smallest fraction of a second, as if giving him the chance to step away. To laugh it off. To end it there.

He didn’t.

Slowly this time, she closed the distance again.

The second kiss was mot sharp or defiant. It was quieter. Intentional. The kind that lingered just a second longer than necessary, her grip on his shirt loosening only slightly as if she were testing something fragile between them.

Axel exhaled softly against her lips, the tension in his body shifting rather than breaking. His hand at her waist tightened, not pulling her closer, not pushing her away—just there, steady, grounding, like he was holding onto something he had not quite decided how to name yet.

Sammy let out a low chuckle from behind them. “Alright… y’all gonna need a room or what?”

Jake laughed under his breath, shaking his head, but neither of them interrupted. Not really. Not in a way that mattered.

May is beside herself, kicking her feet away from the cooler.

Axel still hadn’t pulled away.

Harmony finally broke the kiss, but she didn’t step back. Not fully. Her breath was uneven now, her lips parted slightly as her eyes lifted to meet his again, and whatever she had meant to prove moments ago had shifted into something far more complicated.

Harmony didn’t look back at Peyton.

She didn’t need to.

Her attention stayed exactly where it had been pulled—right back to Axel.

And for the first time since he had come back…

Neither of them looked like they were pretending anymore.

Peyton has had enough, standing up, she came to a stop just at the edge of their space, close enough to be part of the conversation again, but not quite invited into it. Her heels pressed lightly into the dirt as she crossed one arm over her waist, the other still holding her drink like it was part of the act.

Her gaze settled on Axel first.

Always Axel.

“Is this really what you came back for?” she asked, her tone light, almost curious—but there was something sharper underneath it. Something intentional.

The question hung there, deceptively simple.

But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t about the kiss.

It wasn’t about the moment.

It was about everything.

Axel didn’t answer right away. His hand was still at Harmony’s waist, not gripping, not claiming—just there. Present. His jaw tightened slightly as his eyes met Peyton’s, steady and unreadable.

Peyton tilted her head, pressing just a little further when he didn’t take the bait. “Seven years,” she went on, her voice soft, almost thoughtful. “All that time away, all that distance… and this is what you run back to?”

Her gaze flicked then—finally—to Harmony.

Not openly cruel.

Not obvious.

Worse.

Measured.

A faint smile touched her lips, the kind that could almost pass for polite if you didn’t know her. “I mean,” Peyton continued, brushing an imaginary speck from her arm, “I suppose everyone has their… comfort zones.” The implication slid in quietly.

Not loud enough to call out outright.

But sharp enough to land.

Sammy shifted where he stood, his earlier amusement dimming just slightly as the tone changed. Jake’s brows pulled together, his gaze bouncing between them, sensing the shift into something less playful.

Harmony didn’t immediately react.

She didn’t need to.

She simply let the silence stretch just long enough to make Peyton sit in her own words. Smoke curled past her lips as she exhaled, her honey gaze steady, unbothered on the surface—but there was a flicker underneath now. Something watching. Waiting.

Axel moved then.

Not away from Harmony.

Closer.

Subtle. Intentional.

Enough that it couldn’t be mistaken.

His eyes didn’t leave Peyton as he spoke, his voice even, grounded. “You’re reaching.”

Two words.

But they landed.

Peyton’s smile faltered—just for a second.

Just enough to show the crack.

“This is what you came back for?” Peyton demanded, her voice rising as she pointed toward Harmony like she was something dragged in off the street. She stepped closer, heels biting into the dirt, chin lifting as her gaze raked over Harmony with open disdain. “Do you really want the town w***e? How embarrassing…”

The word didn’t just land.

It cut.

The air around the fire went dead still, like the night itself had paused to listen.

May’s jaw dropped.

Sammy straightened immediately, any trace of humor gone from his face.

Jake let out a low, disbelieving, “Jesus…” under his breath, already bracing for what was about to unfold.

Harmony didn’t move.

Not at first.

The kind of stillness that warned of something far worse underneath.

But Axel moved.

Fast.

He stepped forward without thinking, placing himself just slightly in front of Harmony, his presence immediate, solid—unyielding. His eyes locked onto Peyton, sharp and steady. “You really wanna go there?” he asked, his voice low, controlled—but tight enough to betray the anger underneath.

Peyton scoffed, folding her arms like she hadn’t just crossed a line she couldn’t come back from. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you’re defending her now—”

Axel cut her off, stepping closer, closing the space in a way that forced her attention onto him and only him. “No,” he said sharply. “What I’m doing is calling you out.”

She faltered for half a second—but it was not enough to stop her. It never was.

Axel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, disbelief etched into the tension of his jaw. “You wanna talk about embarrassing?” he continued, his voice colder now, sharper. “Let’s talk about the girl who spent damn near twenty years throwing herself at me and still couldn’t get my attention.”

The words hit like a punch.

Peyton’s face drained, then flushed hot with humiliation, her lips parting before anger surged in to replace it. “You don’t get to stand there—”

“I never wanted you, Peyton,” Axel cut in, flat and final. “Not then. Not now. Not ever.”

Silence slammed down over the group.

Heavy. Suffocating.

For half a second, no one moved.

Then—

Crack.

The sound of the slap split through the clearing, sharp and echoing as Axel’s head snapped to the side.

And that was it.

That was all it took.

Harmony moved.

No hesitation. No thought.

One second she was still—

The next, she was on Peyton.

Her fist connected clean and brutal, snapping Peyton’s head back as she stumbled, losing her footing in the dirt. The cigarette fell from Harmony’s hand, forgotten, as she surged forward, every ounce of restraint she had held onto shattering in an instant. “Don’t you put your hands on him again, b***h!” Harmony snapped, her voice raw, feral—unrecognizable from the calm control she had held just moments ago.

Peyton barely caught herself before Harmony swung again, her knuckles catching bone as they crashed down into the dirt near the fire, scattering ash and sending sparks into the air.

“Hey—HEY!” Jake shouted, already rushing forward.

Sammy lunged in, grabbing for Harmony’s arm, but she fought him off, adrenaline surging through her veins, her focus locked entirely on Peyton beneath her.

Axel shook off the sting of the slap, already moving. He stepped in fast, wrapping an arm around Harmony’s waist and hauling her back before she could land another hit. “Harmony—enough!” he barked, his voice strained as he pulled her against him, her body still coiled tight, ready to strike again.

Peyton scrambled backward across the dirt, breath ragged, one hand pressed to her mouth. Blood smeared across her lip, her hair disheveled, clothes streaked with grass and dirt. The perfect image she’d carried all night was gone.

Shattered.

The fire cracked loudly, people rushing in from nearby, voices overlapping as the chaos spread through the clearing.

“You crazy b***h!” Peyton shouted, scrambling to her feet, her voice shaking with fury and humiliation.

“Touch him again! I dare you!” Harmony fired back instantly, her entire body lunging forward again—but she didn’t make it far.

Axel moved faster.

He caught her mid-step, lifting her clean off the ground and throwing her over his shoulder like it was nothing, her sandals kicking slightly as she struggled against him.

“Axel—put me down!” she snapped, still seething, twisting to look back at Peyton.

But he didn’t.

Didn’t slow.

Didn’t give her the chance.

He carried her away from the fire, away from the crowd, away from the chaos she was more than ready to dive back into, his grip firm and unyielding despite her protests.

Behind them, the noise swelled—voices, whispers, Peyton still shouting—but it all started to blur into the background.

Because up ahead, away from the firelight…

It was just them again.

And the aftermath of everything that had just detonated between them.

Axel didn’t stop until the noise of the fire dulled behind them, the glow fading into something distant through the trees. Only then did he slow, his grip still firm as he shifted her weight and finally set her back on her feet.