On the Edge (The Grange Complex Book 1)

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.

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

his husky voice vibrated through the room. “Tell me about the saddest day of your life, Barbie?”

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

been raining all day in Glasgow and I was eating curry that my boyfriend had cooked for me. Two hours

tell him about the fact that I had lost a baby. He didn’t care and it

you

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

them away. There was nothing after that; just emptiness that I had to face every single day. No comfort,

point. He wouldn’t understand it anyway. Dexter had never loved anyone, and

the guy was an asshole and it

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

let him see me like that, so lost and damaged. I liked playing strong. Why did I

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

Dexter

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

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

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,

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

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,

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

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

I needed to

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

her naked. No—I had to shut off my stupid

You must want something if you bought me

your offer from yesterday,” I said, hardening my eyes on her. She

What offer?” she

“The neurologist in Glasgow?”

to