Hometown

Chapter Three

Early the next morning, Axel stood on the back porch of his parents’ home, the worn wood cool beneath his bare feet. The air carried that quiet, early stillness—soft, untouched, like the world hadn’t fully woken up yet.

It felt different here.

Slower.

Cleaner.

Like time had decided to move more gently in Pickett’s Creek, even after everything.

His gaze stretched past the yard, beyond the familiar slope of grass and fence line, settling on the tree line in the distance. Dense. Green. Unchanged. He knew exactly what lay beyond it. Harmony’s childhood home. Not even a mile away. The distance felt almost laughable now—how something so small could hold so much weight. How something so close could feel completely out of reach.

His jaw tightened slightly as memories surfaced without permission.

Late nights. Soft laughter carried through the dark. The faint scrape of bark against skin as she climbed that old oak tree like she had done it a thousand times before. Because she had. Agile. Fearless. Determined in a way that had always made it impossible to tell her no. He could still picture it clearly—her hand reaching for the edge of his window, eyes bright with mischief, lips already curving into a grin before she even pulled herself inside.

Like she belonged there.

Like she belonged with him.

Axel exhaled slowly, the breath leaving him heavier than it should have.

Seven years.

Seven years, and not one person in this town would say her name to him.

Not Sammy.

Not Jake.

Not even May—Harmony’s closest friend, the one person he thought might give him something. Anything. But she had shut down just as quickly, brushing past his questions like they had not been spoken at all.

And his parents… They were the worst of it. Every time he tried, the room shifted. The conversation bent away, subtle at first, then obvious enough to feel intentional. Like they had all silently agreed that Harmony was a subject that didn’t exist anymore. Like speaking about her might summon something they didn’t want to face.

It was infuriating.

And telling.

His fingers curled slightly against the porch railing as frustration settled deep in his chest. Not sharp. Not explosive. Just steady and suffocating. Because it confirmed what he already suspected, something had happened. Something big enough that an entire town decided silence was easier than truth. And somehow, he had been gone for all of it.

Last night had been proof enough.

He had stood in rooms filled with people who used to be part of his everyday life, listening to laughter that once would have pulled him in effortlessly… and all he could think about was the one person who wasn’t there.

He had hoped she might show. Even knowing it was a long shot. Even knowing he didn’t deserve it. But she hadn’t. And deep down, he knew why. She likely hated him. The thought didn’t come with denial. Didn’t come with justification—just acceptance.

Because she would have every reason to.

He had left.

No explanation.

No warning.

Just… gone.

And whatever he had been to her before that—whatever they had built, whatever they had been on the edge of becoming—he had abandoned it like it meant nothing. Like she meant nothing. His throat tightened slightly at that, his gaze dropping for a moment before lifting again, stubbornly returning to the tree line like it might offer him something different this time.

It didn’t.

Inside, voices drifted through the open door behind him.

His parents.

Soft conversation over breakfast—dishes clinking faintly, the low murmur of familiar voices filling the house in a way that wrapped around him without effort. Normal. Warm. Uncomplicated.

A small smile tugged at his mouth despite everything.

He had missed this.

More than he realized.

The quiet mornings.

The ease of it.

The feeling of being somewhere that didn’t demand anything from him.

For a moment, it almost felt like he had never left.

Almost.

Because even here—even with everything exactly where it should be—something was missing.

Someone.

And no matter how much he tried to focus on what he had come back to… his mind kept pulling him right back to what he had lost. Axel’s gaze lingered on the trees a moment longer before he finally looked away, his jaw setting with quiet resolve beneath the weight of it all. He didn’t know what had happened. Didn’t know why no one would talk. Didn’t know if Harmony would even look at him if he stood in front of her.

But he knew one thing for certain.

Seven years was long enough.

And whatever silence had settled between them—he wasn’t going to let it stay that way.

Axel didn’t give himself too much time to think about it.

If he did, he knew exactly what would happen—he would talk himself out of it. Convince himself it wasn’t the right time, that he should wait, that showing up unannounced after seven years was a mistake waiting to happen.

So instead, he grabbed his keys.

The decision felt sudden, but the truth was, it had been building since the moment he stepped back into town. Since the moment no one would say her name. Since the moment he realized avoiding her wasn’t going to make anything easier.

He needed to see her.

Even if it went badly.

Even if she shut the door in his face.

Even if she told him to leave and never come back.

At least then, it would be something.

The engine of his truck rumbled to life beneath him, familiar and steady, grounding in a way his thoughts were not. He pulled out of his parents’ driveway with no real plan beyond going. The roads came back to him easily, muscle memory guiding him through turns he hadn’t taken in years.

The closer he got, the more the doubt crept in.

This was insane.

Just driving out to her place like this—no warning, no call, no idea what he was even going to say when he got there. It felt impulsive. Reckless. Like he was about to walk straight into something he was not prepared to face.

What if she is married? With kids?

Or worse, married to his cousin, Hunter?

His grip tightened slightly on the wheel.

He kept going anyway.

When he turned onto her road, something in his chest shifted—tightening, anticipation mixing with something heavier, something closer to nerves than he wanted to admit. The house came into view slowly, familiar in shape even after all this time.

He hadn’t expected to pull in.

Hadn’t planned to.

Just drive by. That had been the idea.

Just see it. See if she was there. Ease himself into it.

But when he reached the driveway, he turned in.

The decision was almost unconscious, his body acting before his mind could argue.

Gravel crunched beneath his tires as the truck rolled forward—and then he saw him.

A man stood near a bright yellow bike, posture tense, movements sharp and agitated. His voice carried easily across the yard, loud, aggressive, cutting through the quiet morning. “Get out here and f*****g talk to me, Harmony!”

Axel’s brow furrowed instantly, confusion giving way to something darker as he slowed just enough to take in the scene. The man paced near the bike, running a hand through his blonde hair before turning back toward the house like he expected her to appear any second. Like he had a right to be there.

Axel’s jaw tightened.

His hand moved without thought, rolling the window down just enough to hear more clearly. The words repeated—louder this time, edged with frustration that bordered on anger.

That was enough.

The hesitation that had followed him all the way here—gone.

His foot pressed harder on the gas.

The truck surged forward, tires biting into gravel and slinging it back in a sharp spray as he closed the distance fast. The engine roared louder than necessary, deliberate, a warning in itself.

The man barely had time to react.

He turned just as the truck came to a hard stop only feet from the bike, stumbling back in surprise, nearly losing his footing as he scrambled to keep himself upright.

Axel didn’t wait.

The driver’s door flew open, slamming shut behind him with enough force to echo across the yard as he stepped out, already moving. Long strides ate up the distance quickly, his presence alone enough to shift the air between them.

“Who the f**k are you?!” the man demanded, still recovering, irritation flashing across his face as he straightened.

Axel didn’t answer immediately.

He didn’t need to.

At six-foot-seven, he already towered over him, his shadow falling heavy, his expression unreadable but anything but friendly. He reached up slowly, deliberately, pulling his sunglasses from his face and letting his gaze settle fully on the man in front of him.

Cold.

Measured.

Final.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” His voice was not raised.

It didn’t need to be.

The man let out a short, disbelieving huff, brushing dust from his jeans as he tried to recover some sense of control. “You must be one of her new hired bouncers,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. “That’s fine. I’m leaving.” He stepped closer to his bike, grabbing his helmet from the seat, but his eyes flicked back up, something sharper settling in them. “But I can assure you,” he added, voice lowering slightly, “she can’t pay you to guard her twenty-four hours a day.”

Axel’s gaze narrowed just a fraction. “I’d suggest you get on your bike,” he said, each word steady, deliberate, “and leave… before you leave walking.”

The silence that followed stretched just long enough to feel like a decision point.

The man held his stare for a second longer, jaw tight, as if he were weighing whether this was worth pushing further.

Then—he scoffed.

Shook his head.

And made his choice.

He kicked the stand up with a sharp motion, swinging onto the bike and jamming the helmet on without another word. The engine roared to life, louder than necessary, aggressive in its own right.

A final rev—and then he tore out of the driveway, gravel spraying behind him in a cloud of dust as he disappeared down the road.

The sound lingered for a moment.

Then faded.

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. 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 was 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, as 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 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.