On the Edge (The Grange Complex Book 1)

Chapter 17

Sasha

I instantly smelled a strong odour of weed coming from the kitchen and living room. Dexter was lying on

the sofa with his eyes closed. I spotted a joint on the table with a half-empty bottle of whisky. I guessed

he must have drunk quite a bit already.

I shouldn’t really have cared about him and his well-being. As he’d pointed out several times, it was just

sex between us, but after this morning I couldn’t stay away. I was concerned that he was mixing too

many unregulated medications just for the sake of it, causing more damage than good to himself.

“Hi,” I said softly.

“What are you doing here, Sasha?” he asked. I was expecting him to be his usual self, acting superior

like this morning, but his question was quiet and guarded.

“I was worried about you,” I said, knowing that there was no point in making stuff up about why I was

here. I got an impression that he liked to put on an act, and I wasn’t buying it anymore. All I wanted to

do right now was to find out what was wrong with him.

Tomorrow I had another viewing that he probably didn’t know about, and there was a strong possibility

that I could gain a sell out of it. The estate agent had mentioned that his client was very keen. But this

wasn’t the time or the place to bring it up.

He ran his hand over his face, then looked at me. For the first time I noticed dark circles under his

eyes.

“I have a really bad fucking migraine. So sorry, but I can’t fuck you right now,” he growled. He lifted

himself up, hissing as he did so, probably as the pain in his head escalated. People who suffered from

migraines had to lie still for several hours, mainly in a darkened room.

Dexter picked up the joint from the table and lit it up.

“Does this happen often, the migraines?”

“Too fucking often, and after years of using it, the weed doesn’t seem to be working as effectively as it

used to,” he snapped, sounding angry.

I bit my lip, trying to come up with something, anything. The silence stretched for several minutes. “A

nurse that I work with knows a very good neurologist in Glasgow,” I said and then paused, not even

sure if I knew what I was saying. “I can arrange an appointment for you tomorrow; we can drive there

together if you want?”

He inhaled sharply, dropping his head down. “My mother has been dragging me to doctors since I

could fucking remember. All these fuckers are the same, doing tests, but never knowing what the hell is

wrong with me.”

I shook my head, understanding why he was resistant. I sighed and walked to the bathroom, and an

idea popped into my head. In the bottom of a drawer I found a black towel. My own muscles were tense

after the workout and I didn’t want to fight with him anymore; we were past that now. I ran the towel

under cold water and then squeezed it out.

“Sasha, what the hell are you doing here right now?” he repeated when I walked towards the sofa. It

was a positive sign—he wasn’t using that stupid nickname again, but my real name. Maybe arsey and

arrogant Dexter had finally left the room.

“Helping. Now lie down on the sofa again,” I ordered.

He didn’t argue this time; he looked like he was in a lot of pain. I placed the towel over his eyes and

forehead and told him to stay still. For the next twenty minutes we didn’t say anything. I sat down on

the chair opposite, thinking about Joey and my mother. I’d been meaning to visit her and if Dexter

agreed to go to see a neurologist, I could kill two birds with one stone.

Sometimes migraines were very severe. I didn’t want to ask him about the pills, alcohol and whatever

else he was taking. Those kinds of personal questions seemed to anger him. In time I was certain that

he would eventually explain what was going on. I bet he was the kind of guy that if pushed, would

withdraw further and close up completely, so I had to be patient.

After some time I thought that he finally had fallen asleep, but then his husky voice vibrated through the

room. “Tell me about the saddest day of your life, Barbie?”

I dragged more air into my lungs and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to talk about it. Since that day three

years ago, I’d thought about that terrible day only a handful of times. I had been suppressing it inside

for years now; maybe it was time to finally share it with someone else. I had refused to talk about it,

remembering how long it took me to put the pieces back together again. That deep wound always

remained inside me and I was afraid to scoop it out with my own words, in case I fell apart all over

again.

“It was three years ago. It had been raining all day in Glasgow and I was eating curry that my boyfriend

had cooked for me. Two hours later I was sitting in the hospital and the doctor told me that I’d had a

miscarriage.”

I swallowed the tears, not wanting to break down in front of him. For several minutes we didn’t say

anything. I don’t know why I decided to tell him about the fact that I had lost a baby. He didn’t care and

it wasn’t like we were going to end up together anyway, but I felt comfortable being here with him. That

hadn’t happened since I left Glasgow.

“How did you feel then?”

His voice was comforting for some reason. My little baby had meant the world to me and I was in denial

for so long after that. Kirk had been so happy when I announced that I was pregnant. My limbs went

numb as an old pain started pulsing through me again, reminding me of how I felt then. It was only the

beginning of everything that went wrong in my life. When I found out that I was pregnant it was the

happiest moment in my life, but then it was taken away from me in a heartbeat.

“It was like someone had scooped out the last bits of joy left in my body and thrown them away. There

was nothing after that; just emptiness that I had to face every single day. No comfort, no solace, no

anything.”

He took the towel off his eyes, but I refused to meet his gaze. There was no point. He wouldn’t

understand it anyway. Dexter had never loved anyone, and I had burned myself so many fucking

times.

“Maybe the baby was not meant to be. Maybe the guy was an asshole and it spared the baby and you

any future pain,” he said.

Tears fell down my cheeks and I still refused to look at him. The past version of me temporarily

replaced the real me, the happy me that I was then, pushing in dark twisted memories of what

happened, so I shut myself down. Dexter was right, Kirk had turned into a monster, but we’d both

wanted that baby back then. He was hurt and the whole relationship had gone downhill from there. I

didn’t want to imagine what would happen if I’d stayed with him.

I got up and headed to the door, wiping the tears away. I couldn’t let him see me like that, so lost and

damaged. I liked playing strong. Why did I have to be so honest all of a sudden?

“Hey, Sasha,” he called after me and I stopped and turned around. “Whoever he was, he wasn’t worth

your time and I’m sorry about your baby. It must have been hard.”

Dexter

I didn’t sleep that night, thinking about what Sasha had said to me. Whatever shit came my way didn’t

fucking matter, because it looked like she had gone through a lot more than I could ever comprehend.

When I’d lost my father I was a mess, but Sasha was hiding more scars away from me I could tell.

I shouldn’t have cared, but I fucking asked the question, which meant that I did care. She was the

hottest pussy I had slept with and I got hard every time I thought about her pole-dancing moves at the

party.

One second I was calm, relaxed, thinking about our steamy sex in the corridor; the next minute she

was walking into my life with her muddy shoes, wanting to know why I needed pills, asking

uncomfortable questions.

The demands of her going down on me had come out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I

behaved like a complete ass sometimes. We’d had good times together and I enjoyed her being

around me. Three years ago, she got pregnant, probably with some douche, and then she lost the

baby. Maybe I pushed the boundaries, but I felt comfortable around her and when I was in pain I didn’t

think much about what I was saying.

The intense headaches started after Joey’s funeral. I used to have migraines before, from when I was

fifteen. My mother dragged me from one doctor to another, but no one could ever find a reason behind

it. I learnt to deal with it, distracting myself with a lot of sex and weed. I didn’t really like getting stoned,

but my brain switched off then. It was great not to feel anything.

I woke up later than usual, at five a.m. The headache had finally gone away, so I got some work

finished. Sasha was at the apartment today and I was ready to take her up on her offer from yesterday.

I wanted to make amends for treating her like she was a whore, so I made a few phone calls and

cleared my schedule.

Despite the restless night I had shitloads of energy and I was knocking on her door at ten o’clock in the

morning with a coffee. Yes, I wanted to fuck her again, and I was hungry for more information about

that asshole that fucked her life up.

Really? I needed to get a fucking grip.

She opened the door wearing white shorts and a red top. My mouth watered, but I forced myself to

keep my eyes on her face, not her glorious tits. She folded her arms over her chest and raised her left

eyebrow.

“Morning, Barbie. Coffee?” I asked, imagining her naked. No—I had to shut off my stupid fucking sex

drive. She took it from me, looking wary and slightly uncomfortable.

“Thanks, but I’m confused. You must want something if you bought me a coffee?”

“Well, sometimes I am a human. Besides, I wanted to take you up on your offer from yesterday,” I said,

hardening my eyes on her. She wasn’t wearing a bra—fuck, again teasing me like that.

“Offer? What offer?” she asked.

“The neurologist in Glasgow?”

“You want to go with me?”

“Yeah, I can’t take this shit anymore. The headaches are getting worse,” I said. I didn’t normally ask

women out—not that this was a date or anything—but for some reason I trusted her. She was a nurse.

She switched her weight to the side and bit her lip. My dick twitched.

Focus, Dex. You can fuck her later in the car.

“No, that’s cool, but I need to pop in and see my parents first. My mother needs to sign some

paperwork for the solicitor. Besides, I haven’t seen her since I moved here,” she replied. “You know, I

can introduce you to her as my boyfriend. Maybe it’s time. We have been seeing each other for a while

now, you know. What do you think?”

I looked at her like she was crazy while panic invaded my body. I wanted to have her in my bed again,

but meeting the parents—what the fuck? I wasn’t ready for heavy shit like that so early in the morning.

Then a huge smile broke over her face and she shouted, “Gotcha!”

“What the fuck?”

“The look on your face! God, it was hilarious. You were shitting yourself,” she laughed.

I shook my head. “You know that you will regret that, Barbie.”

“Shut up, Dexter. I needed to mess with you a little. Anyway, on a serious note, I do need to see my

mother. You can wait in the car or come in, whatever. I don’t care.”

“All right, but do you always talk this much? I cleared my schedule so we can head off early, but now

we are discussing pointless crap.”

“Charming as always. Just give me five minutes. I need to change first,” she muttered and disappeared

inside. I didn’t want to meet her mother, but I was curious enough. Joey had never mentioned any close

family and after all, Sasha was his niece. Maybe I was ready to break all the rules.

Sasha was holding a stack of papers under her arms when she came back. She looked sexy as fuck

wearing black leather pants and the same white top from earlier on. How was I supposed to keep my

hands away from her for a whole hour?

The drive to Glasgow was going to be interesting. Sasha was serious about helping me, but I was

thinking about all the places we could have sex. I fucking hated meeting with women for dates or going

to their apartments, but this was different. I actually wanted to hang out with her.

I insisted on driving, because I didn’t like to fuck around. Surprisingly, the conversation between us flew

nicely. Sasha was talking most of the time. She seemed nervous and I had no idea if it was because of

what she had revealed to me yesterday or because I made her uneasy. I was barely listening to her,

thinking about sucking on her wet sex.

It was hot and humid and that didn’t help, because I was hard most of the drive. Half an hour later I

pulled up outside a semi-detached house in an all-right neighbourhood. I had bought a house around

here a couple of years ago, so I knew the area quite well. Sasha’s parents weren’t rich—that was

obvious—but I wasn’t judging. It wasn’t like I always had shitloads of money, and Sasha was

supporting herself, and that was what mattered. My mind clouded as I imagined banging her in some

swanky hotel in the city.

“I shouldn’t be long,” she said, tossing her blonde hair behind her.

“So? You won’t invite me in?”

“You want to come in? To meet my mother?”

“Why not? It’s not like you’re going to introduce me as your boyfriend—but we both know that you want

to,” I chuckled and leaning over, I caught her lower lip and sucked on it. She gasped, but I pulled away,

knowing that this was bad fucking idea, because I was ready to rip her clothes off and fuck her right

there on the driveway of her parent’s house.

She was breathing hard, trying to tame her crazy hair.

“Whatever. Me and you as a couple is never going to happen,” she said and got out of the car. I strolled

after her, thinking about some old dudes having sex. It must have helped because my dick went flat.

After all, I still wanted to make a good impression.