In the arms of no one (Completed)

Chapter 6

Vallon's POV

"Here, little cousin, let me take that." The voice was rough, impatient, like someone had been chewing on gravel for breakfast. Before I could even blink, my duffle bag and suitcase were snatched from my hands.

Instinctively, I yanked my arm free, stumbling back a step. The fog from earlier hadn't fully cleared, and for a moment I just stared, trying to shake off the weird haze, the residual buzz of travel and exhaustion clouding my thoughts. I frowned, irritation pricking my nerves. What the hell just happened? And why did it feel like I'd already failed at something I didn't even know I was supposed to do?

"Thanks," I muttered quietly to the blonde giant, my cousin, who was now standing there like a slightly annoyed statue.

"Mmmhhmm," he hummed, not looking particularly impressed with either me or the guy behind me. His scowl had all the subtlety of a brick to the face.

"Just so you know," he said, tilting his head like he was about to deliver the verdict of a supreme court, "that guy you were just... salivating over... is my sister's boyfriend... and my best friend."

The words hit like a punch. Not the first time someone had assumed something about me, but the timing was perfect: not even an hour in this country, and already I was a walking gossip, a home-wrecking whore-in-waiting. My stomach churned with a cocktail of indignation, guilt, and irritation. And, seriously, what the actual fuck? I didn't even know what had happened, and now I was being judged for it?

The blonde guy's eyes locked on the one behind me, glinting with some kind of half-glare, half-who-knows-what, before sliding into a blank, slightly lowered stare that reminded me too much of my old English teacher, Mrs. Maka, who'd once turned her Botox-overloaded face into a permanent school-wide joke.

"Just so you know," I shot back, my voice sharp and defensive, "your friend was the one eye-fucking me. And I am the one who is not interested."

The words hung in the air like a live grenade. I flushed a little, half from anger, half from the residual embarrassment of it all. Not even twenty-four hours here, and I was already playing defense in a game I hadn't agreed to join.

My cousin blinked, the expression on his face morphing through shock, confusion, and finally settling into something that resembled actual contemplation. He probably thought he'd caught me in a lie. He hadn't.

"Let's head back. Bianca's waiting with everyone else to meet you," he said, trying to shift the conversation like a pro. I nodded, though my thoughts were still a messy mess of irritation, confusion, and "holy hell, this family is insane."

"I've been dying to meet your sister. Mum's always going on about how much we have in common," I added, forcing some civility, even though my brain was still simmering.

I moved toward my Aunty, Elizabeth, who was maneuvering a luggage trolley with a frown that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her smile seemed more like armor than genuine warmth, and I didn't blame her. I had the vague, uncomfortable feeling that the storm that just passed between me and my cousin wasn't entirely over.

"You okay, hon?" Aunty Elizabeth asked, her gaze flicking toward the two boys lagging a few paces behind us.

I nodded, absently rifling through my handbag for my phone. Once I found it, I turned it on, the screen lighting up with texts I hadn't yet processed, emails I didn't care about, and notifications that felt like nails scratching on a chalkboard. I dug through settings to set up roaming, hoping to at least keep in touch with people back home until I could get a local phone. Maybe before Christmas. Maybe.

The airport air buzzed with the low hum of travelers, announcements, and rolling trolleys when my phone erupted in a piercing ring. I looked down and groaned. Not Brody. Of course it was Brody. Every nerve in my body instantly tightened, memories clawing at my chest like feral cats.