Unexpected (The Sun Valley Series Book 1)

“GET your fucking hands off my girlfriend.”

The growling voice reverberating through the night air freezes my feet to the concrete driveway. I watch, unable to move as Nick is ripped away from me, the sucker punch he receives to the temple quickly followed by another to the gut. I watch, horrified as his eyes take on a dazed look before fluttering shut, his body crumpling to the floor in the most sickening way. And I watch, fear chilling me to the bone as Dylan turns his steely, furious gaze on me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands which, in any other situation, would be funny because that’s exactly what I was thinking. It’s his hand reaching for me that snaps me out of my stupor, causes me to stumble backward, away from him, but it’s pointless. He grabs me easily, rough fingers encircling my wrist the same way they did almost a month ago, yanking me forward with so much force, I swear something pops.

“Let me go.” I struggle weakly, my voice little more than a whimper and I hate myself for it. I cast a look at Nick, groaning on the concrete, vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen him before, and I whimper again.

Dylan ignores me. If anything, his grip tightens as he drags me away from Nick, from the house full of people oblivious to what’s happening. “You think I’m gonna let you run around like a little whore?” he spits, face bright red, eyes ablaze, features twisted in the most awful leer. “What were you gonna do, huh? Fuck him to get back at me?”

“Stop it.”

He doesn’t. He hauls me across the thin strip of grass separating the guys’ drive from their neighbors, making a beeline for the car I recognize as his. For the first time, I realize Dylan didn’t come alone; his friends are leaning against his car, laughing as I wrestle and try not to cry. “Get your ass in my car before I throw you in there.”

Every inch of common sense I possess screams in warning. I can’t get in that car, I know I can’t. Using all my strength, I dig my heels into the grass and wrench my arm from him, ignoring the pain lancing up the limb. “No.”

I cradle my wrist to my chest, unable to breathe as Dylan turns towards me slowly, his entire body taut with furious tension. “No?” He repeats incredulously.

“No.” My voice shakes, my entire body shakes but I don’t back down. “I’m not your girlfriend anymore, Dylan. You don’t get a say in what I do.”

It’s a physical thing, the process of my words sinking into Dylan’s consciousness. I watch it happens, as it twists his features even more until he resembles the man, the monster, I’m terrified of. “You’re gonna regret talking to me like that.”

It’s a menacing promise followed up by the lifting of his hand. Fear chases the fight from my body as I freeze once again, powerless to do anything other than close my eyes and brace for impact as his palm arcs towards me on a perfect trajectory for my cheek.

But the impact never comes.

A loud grunt and a clapping sound have my eyes reopening just as a broad body tackles Dylan to the ground, Nick’s fist rearing back to deliver a revenge blow across my ex-boyfriend’s cheek. Momentarily, I’m stunned as he delivers blow after blow, unsure if it’s relief or horror or something else entirely coursing through me.

It’s definitely horror I feel when, in a flurry of bodies, the cowardly, sorry excuses for men watching this all happen approach and haul Nick off their coughing, spluttering friend, two of them hoisting him up by the armpits while a third socks him in the stomach.

A scream rips from my throat as fists fly and groans fill the air, Nick’s groans, as he’s pummelled by punch after punch. He’s strong, I know he’s strong, but three against one is too much for even him and he’s been drinking and, fuck, he might have a concussion and…

Panic drives me forward. I’m rushing towards him, screaming for them to stop, when a thick arm hooks around my waist, holding me back. “Not so fast,” a sickeningly amused voice coos in my ear, fueling my panic. I cringe away from Will and he laughs, he fucking laughs, holding me fast as I kick and howl and flail like a feral cat.

“Nick.” I scream his name and he shouts mine back, a hoarse sound that reminds me of something.

Elbow and knees, he’d said to me. You’re small but if you catch a guy in the groin with an elbow, he’s going down. 

And that’s what I do; I jerk an elbow back and it must connect with something sensitive because Will hisses loudly. Abruptly, he drops me, tossing me aside like a piece of trash. I hit the ground hard, the force of it reverberating up my knees and palms but I ignore the ache. I’m barely down before I’m scrambling to my feet, panicking and shrieking all over again when a new set of arms wrap around my waist and haul me upright. A soothing voice hushes me. “Amelia, it’s me.”

I choke on a sob of relief, my body going limp in Ben’s arms. “Please help him.”

It’s as the words leave my mouth that two more bodies appear in my peripheral. My relief becomes overwhelming, threatening to buckle my knees, as Jackson and Cass and some of their baseball buddies rush into the fray, picking those assholes off one by one.

I can’t see Nick, there’s too many bulky bodies blocking my view, but I see Dylan. I see him storm towards me, steam practically pouring from his ears, spittle flying as he yells, “You fuck them too, Mils? You really are a little slu-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish; Cass’ fist smashing into his cheekbone cuts him off. Dylan hits the ground like a lead sack, unmoving, and for a terrifying moment, I wonder if Cass accidentally knocked the life out of him.

For an exhilarating moment, I almost hope he has.

I’m flushed with an odd feeling when Dylan groans and struggles to his feet, blood rushing from his nose as he staggers a step toward me. “Amelia, baby.” His crooning has the same effect on me as I imagine drinking battery acid would. A bloody hand stretches out in my direction, a pathetic look begging for pity contorting his fucked-up face. It makes me so mad, so unbelievably livid that I find myself stepping out of Ben’s safe embrace, ignoring the protests of him and others. My anger only grows when relief floods Dylan’s face.

Relief I kill with a smack of my palm, smacking him like he planned on smacking me. But it’s not enough, it’s not close to satisfying. So, I ball my fist, careful to keep my thumb untucked, and I punch the bastard who keeps trying to ruin my life.

“You are a pathetic excuse for a man,” I seethe, ignoring the throbbing pain in my knuckles amplifying the ache of my wrist. “If you ever touch me or my friends or anyone else again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

I mean it. God, do I mean it and there must be something on my face that proves it because Dylan, in the smartest move of his life, backs up. One step, then another, his mouth open in a perfect ‘o’ of shock as he cradles the jaw I wish I was strong enough to break. He wants to argue. I can see it in his bloodshot eyes. But then they dart to something over my shoulder and his mouth snaps shut, he stumbles back another step. “Fuck you,” he can’t help but hiss, spitting out a mouthful of dark red blood before ambling away.

His friends—I completely forgot about his friends right now but they’re all as bloody as their leader, all brimming with the same barely contained anger—follow behind him, each and every one of them throwing me despicable glares.

Only when they round the corner and disappear from sight do I let my legs give out like they’re begging to.

A few things happen all at once.

Vaguely, I hear someone shouting for everyone to leave, and only then do I realize we’ve garnered an audience. A semi-circle of drunken students disperses under Jackson’s command. I can only imagine the stories already brewing, ready to circulate campus.

A slender body plops on the ground beside me. A dainty hand slips into my uninjured one. Blonde hair tickles my shoulder as Luna huddles close, her voice urgent as it enquires whether I’m okay.

There’s only a second of delay between her appearance and Cass’. He crouches in front of me, all but yelling his concerns and not at all soothed by my weak nod of assurance. He’s gentle as he lifts me to my feet, cradling me under his arm as he guides me somewhere.

It’s not until a wooden floor creaks beneath my feet do I register I’m inside. Cool leather sticks to my thighs as I’m set down gently and, for some reason, it’s the sight of my grass-stained knees that has reality flooding into attack me. Tears I desperately try to keep at bay suddenly escape, flowing freely down my cheeks in hot streams, gradually getting more and more intense as sobs wrack my body. A hand on the back of my head guides me towards a hard chest, and I clutch hopelessly at Cass’ shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

He says something but I don’t hear it. I can’t focus on anything other than overwhelming emotions and my racing mind. A million thoughts fight for the spotlight but only one manages to take precedence.

“Nick.” His name leaves me in a gasp as my head snaps upwards, eyes frantically searching for a man I was furious with no more than ten minutes ago, the man with an uncanny knack for saving me when I need it. It doesn’t take me long to find him and when I do, when my gaze falls on him battered and bleeding and bruised, a whole new round of sobs overcome me. I push Cass away from me, suddenly despising his comfort, suddenly feeling guilty for wanting it. He’s probably injured too. And Jackson and God knows who else, all because of me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I cradle my face in my hands, hiding from all the sympathetic stares I don’t deserve. “This is all my fault.”

A mere five seconds pass before someone’s gently prying my hands away.

“Look at me, querida,” a hoarse voice softly requests and even though I don’t want to, I force my eyes open. A pair of honey-coloured ones lurk inches away, framed by already darkening bruises and drying blood. I try to cringe away, to hide again, but Nick doesn’t let me. Crouching in front of me, as close as he can get, he laces his fingers through mine. “This isn’t your fault,” he tells me quietly, his deep voice almost a whisper.

When he says it, I almost believe him.

Almost.

“I dragged you all into this,” is my croaked reply, sounding almost as empty as I feel.

“You did nothing wrong.” Not only Nick claims but several other voices too. I know they’re trying to help but it only makes me feel worse, like I’m drowning in a tidal wave of shame and embarrassment and so much fucking guilt. I drop my gaze, staring at Nick and I’s clasped hands, the state of his knuckles making me feel sick to my stomach. I withdraw my hands from his, readying myself to get up and leave no matter how hard they try to stop me because I want to go home, when a sentence freezes me.

“You can’t do this again.” Across from me, Luna stands, her tone steady and serious, her blue eyes dark. “This is the third time he’s hurt you. The third time. You have to report him.”

Silence settles over all of us, so profound you could hear a pin drop. So silent I can practically hear my little white lies disintegrating. So silent I hear Cass’ sharp intake of breath. “The third time?”

I wince at his confused question at the same time Luna lets out a loud, dry cackle. “You think that’s bad?” She gestures to my ever-injured wrist. “Two months ago she came home with a split lip and a concussion after he-”

“Luna.”

Cass tenses beside me. “He hit you?”

“No!” I promise in a shaky voice.

“No, he just slammed a car door in your face.”

It’s like all the air rushes out of the room, leaving behind only palpable shock. Almost as soon as the words leave her mouth, Luna’s sneer falls. Her eyes go wide, her mouth opening and closing as an apology forms and dies on her lips.

An apology I’m in no state to hear.

“You have no right to tell them that,” I seethe, anger joining the myriad of other emotions plaguing me. My gaze ping-pongs around the room, flitting from Cass to Nick to Jackson to Ben and finding the same thing on each of their faces.

Pity.

Exactly what I didn’t want, exactly why I’ve kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want them looking at me the way they’re looking at me right now. The way I catch Kate and Luna looking at me when they think I won’t notice. The way that makes me want to throw up and pull out my hair and lock myself in my room, never to be seen again.

Two stares in particular are killing me the most. I choose what feels like the easier, the less daunting, of the pair, glancing aside to where Cass sits stiffly, a silent question on his face. Why didn’t you tell me?

“I didn’t want you to do anything stupid,” is my answer, my pathetic excuse. I know my brother. If I had told him, he would’ve strangled Dylan with his bare hands and ruined his own life in the process. “Please, don’t be mad at me.”

Cass blinks at me once, twice, and then he melts. An arm slinking around my shoulders, he pulls me into his side and hugs me fiercely. “You can’t keep shit like that from me, Tiny,” he whispers into my air, the words thick with emotion. “Don’t do it again, please.”

Tears tighten my throat so I simply nod, hugging him just as tightly.

Every single person in the room jumps when the front door suddenly flies open. Cass spins in his seat, a protective hand gripping my thigh while Nick—still crouching in front of me, watching the whole ordeal silently—springs to his feet, acting as a defensive barrier between me and the intruder.

A palpable wave of repose washes over the room when we find Kate standing in the doorway—I completely forgot she said she was going to try stop by after her date. Expression furrowed with confusion, she scans the room, silently taking in the boys’ bloody states and her tear-stained cheeks. With a sigh, she shuts the door behind her. Without a word, she disappears into the kitchen. Cupboards slam and a few muttered curses sound before my friend reappears, an unopened bottle of tequila in one hand, a first aid kit in the other. “Well?” she probes. “Who wants to start?”