On the Edge (The Grange Complex Book 1)

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.”

me, Mrs. Tyndall. It was just sex between us,

spoke to you in the hospital. I believe

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 with me and never once

wimps, so it’s impossible. He doesn’t love me

to convince you to give him another chance. That has to come from him. I just 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 illness could be genetic, and now after so many years I can finally begin

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

his behaviour and the fact that the doctors believed that finally he had the right medication to control his illness. All I wanted was

Dexter

I couldn’t fucking bribe him and the big nurse wasn’t 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 time in my room, staring at the wall, thinking and analysing what

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.

just a kid then, but I should have known that there was something wrong. Now I remembered all the symptoms, the outbursts of anger, the mood swings. I always did what he asked

that she was cheating on him. I couldn’t 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 her she would finally choose me. Dad always taught me to show people how much you cared for them, so that’s what I did. When I showed up she was standing outside her house with a popular kid a year older than me, and they were kissing. I couldn’t believe it. I had been helping her with

with her. Back then I was naive enough to believe that I had a better chance of going out with

was probably out looking for me. I headed straight for the attic, planning to stay there and wait for Mum, wanting to be somewhere else. The attic door was stuck, but I managed to open 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

closed, breathing hard, trying to stop this fucking nonsense. I never cried, not since

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, no one to go camping with, no one to go fishing with. People paid no attention to me when I was polite and

in my room, thinking that the hospital itself was making me unstable. The only thing left for me was to sit and think about my shitty life all 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 with me, not against

the corridor in the evening. This drove her mental and I liked winding her up; it felt like a small victory in this

fucking girl?”

keep screaming for every night.”

and glared at her. She couldn’t have known about my nightmares, but she probably had heard me. Bitch. I tried playing nice Dexter with her, charming Dexter, arrogant Dexter. Crap, nothing was working. She wasn’t taking my bullshit.

I barked, feeling sweat run down my back. I hated my dreams, hated Sasha and

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 everything

done with Bishop and this whole

tablets, woman. I’m fucked off by your snide little comments,”

half of her fucking weight when she handed me

within days I started feeling better, more like myself. From that day I began taking six different pills every day. Bishop called this progress, I called it a weakness.