On the Edge (The Grange Complex Book 1)

Chapter 25

Sasha

“What do you mean?”

“Well, apparently Dexter accepted the medication and finally opened up. That was only two days ago, and everyone is still wary about any progress.”

“Did he say anything about it?”

“I’m not quite sure. The nurse said that he probably realised that he wasn’t getting out of the hospital any time soon, so he gave up. Decided to act like a grown man for a change.”

“Thank God,” I muttered.

“You know, I need to tell you—Dexter does care for you a lot.”

I inhaled, feeling as though my heart had stuttered in my chest.

Crap, where did this come from? I felt the usual warmth rising in my body. I wanted to forget about him and move on with my new life. Dexter said some crushing things to me, things that I couldn’t simply forget.

“Mrs. Tyndall, when I moved in, Dexter had many female visitors and he wasn’t particularly discreet about it. I believe that he used sex as a distraction, an outlet for his bipolar issues. He won’t have changed—I haven’t tamed him. He showed me his true colours in the hospital and said some very hurtful things that I can’t forget. Now, with proper medication, his illness can be managed. I’m moving out in two weeks and I–”

“I believe my son has fallen in love with you, Sasha,” she cut me off.

I went silent, staring at her as if she handed me my still-beating heart on my palm. I needed to get up, but I flopped back on the chair. Love—that word sounded funny even to me. Dexter didn’t believe in love or emotional attachment.

“Did he say that?” I asked.

She didn’t reply. Okay, so it was clear that he didn’t drop on his knees and reveal to her that he finally found the love of his life. Besides, I couldn’t imagine him even saying something like that.

Mrs. Tyndall cleared her throat. “No, not exactly.”

love me, Mrs. Tyndall. It was just sex between us, that’s all.”

way he spoke to you in the hospital. I believe that week gave

whole thing went too far. I wasn’t ready to hear that he finally came to his senses, that he understood that he’d done wrong. Whatever. He had weeks

I won’t directly quote him, Mrs. Tyndall, but to him love is for wimps, so it’s impossible.

wanted to thank you for looking out for him. My husband took his own life. He, too, went to the doctors and they never looked into his mental well-being. This

was betraying Dex and myself. I couldn’t go to visit him, because I knew that if I saw him, I couldn’t deny that I was in love with him. Dexter needed to get back on his feet on his own. His mother could say whatever she had to, but we both knew that

fact that the doctors believed that finally he had the right medication to control his illness. All I wanted was to move out before he returned, but I

Dexter

falling for my charms. They were relentless, trying to convince me to take the meds, but I knew better. For months I had been taking my own drugs, and I didn’t need Prozac to feel like a new me. I spent most of the

to see my mother and brother. Jack was in the army and he was away somewhere in Germany. I was glad. He didn’t need to see me like this. I knew that I was a stubborn fuck. My own inner darkness had been mounting since the moment

I still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he made that selfish decision to leave us. I was just a kid then, but I should have

listen to him, so I went out to see a girl from school that I desperately wanted to date. I spent my last pocket money on some shitty flowers and chocolate, thinking that if I impressed

didn’t even notice me and I was devastated, furious with the fact that I wasted so much time with her. Back then I was naive enough to believe that

it. As soon as I stepped inside, my eyes took in my father’s swaying body. He was hanging from the ceiling. For a long moment I just stood there trying to snap out of my shock, the darkness slowly consuming me. A cold chill invaded the marrow in my bones, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I had no idea how long I stood there. Maybe half an hour, maybe an hour. Finally, I heard my

that I was crying now too, as I sat here in the hospital ward. Warm tears were streaming down my ugly face and I squeezed my eyes closed, breathing hard, trying to stop this fucking nonsense. I never cried, not since I buried my father. He was the man that I looked up to. He’d taught me to treat everyone with respect. We had shared some incredible moments together, and I always tried hard

tears were making me weak—I hated being that guy from the past. I achieved more acting like I didn’t give a fuck. Women preferred the other me, the hardcore Dexter, the dirty-talking man that fucked them hard. Dad’s death broke me and I was never the same after that. All of a sudden he was gone and I had no one to talk to,

day long. When I was alone, Sasha was standing next to me, naked, giving me her usual attitude. When I was eating the shitty hospital food, talking to that asshole Bishop, or hanging around the ward, she was with me. I saw her face all the time. I thought about her more than I was supposed to and I was angry, fucking furious with myself. The doctors, the nurses, my mother and my brother—they all wanted me to take meds. They were all saying that I wasn’t going to get better until I understood that they were

Dexter,” said Nurse Jones when I was pacing around the corridor in the evening. This drove her mental and I liked winding her up; it felt like a small victory in

girl?”

that you keep screaming for every

known about my nightmares, but she probably had heard me. Bitch. I tried playing nice Dexter with

run down my back. I hated my dreams, hated Sasha and the whole system, and at some point I hated my father. Nurse

taking your meds,” she added, smirking at her own cleverness and turning her eyes down to her magazine. I hated the fact that I didn’t get my way. I clenched my fists and strolled up to her window. Every night I had the same dream. I saw Sasha walking away from me, never responding to my shouts of protest. Maybe I had pushed this whole asshole attitude too far. Life was better if I was obnoxious and rude, but Sasha meant

I was done with Bishop and this whole

“Fine, give me the tablets, woman. I’m fucked off by your snide little comments,” I snapped at

she handed me the pills. I swallowed

day I began taking six different pills every day. Bishop called this progress,

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