Edge of Bliss (Love on the Edge Book 3)

by Molly E. Lee

  “Oh, for goodness sakes, Blake.” She got up and gently sat on my opposite side, wrapping an arm around me. “You are good. Your heart is full of love and light. Bad things, horrible things happened to you, and were told to you, but you are not those things. You are not what he made you believe you were. You are the exact opposite of everything that boy ever brought out in you.” She kissed my forehead, and more tears spilled over my lashes. Something about my mom . . . I crumbled around her.

  “How can you be sure? What if I bring Dash down? He’s so wonderful, near flawless and I’m full of breaks.”

  “You make Dash a better person, too. He’s not flawless. No one is. And even if you have some fractures on that soul of yours, you know what’s the cure for it?”

  “What?”

  “Your mirror. Your other half. Dash will mend and sooth every single piece of you that feels broken, if you give him the opportunity to. He loves you without condition or regard. You don’t find that everywhere, Blake. I promise you.”

  I nodded, leaning into her as much as my side would allow. “I love you, Mama.”

  She stroked my hair. “I love you, too, baby girl. Know that, and know that you aren’t the darkness Justin covered you with for far too long.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, swallowing more tears.

  We sat there, listening to Hail snore, until my eyes drifted shut from exhaustion. I was hovering on the edge of sleep when my cell phone blared from the table next to the couch. We both jolted, and I hissed as she passed it to me. I swiped the screen, wincing as I answered.

  “Hello?” I asked, not recognizing the number.

  “Hello, may I speak to Ms. Caster?” a female voice said on the other end. The professional tone she carried made my heart clench. What had happened now that merited a call? Justin? Dash? Please, God, not Dash.

  “Speaking,” I finally said after swallowing the lump in my throat.

  “Hi. This is Trudy Owens from Oklahoma City News.”

  I breathed out a sigh of relief. “How can I help you, Ms. Owens?” I asked, wondering if she needed a quote from Dash’s site or something.

  “We’ve been following your work, Ms. Caster.”

  Mom got up and disappeared into the kitchen as I sat there in confusion. “My work?”

  “Yes, your footage from Mr. Lexington’s site? We haven’t seen anything from this storm season yet, but we caught on to last year’s early videos and were very impressed. I’m good friends with an old professor of yours, Mr. Ackren?”

  I smiled, unable to stop my affection for the professor whose class I met Dash in. “Yes, he was one of my favorites.”

  “He told us you graduated early and would be looking for a network. His praise is high, plus the footage from the site further commends your talent.”

  “Thank you,” I said, flustered and flattered at the same time. She must’ve watched the videos from when I’d just joined Dash’s team, because we hadn’t caught anything on the alley—just a few catches in Oklahoma before hitting the road at the end of the semester.

  “We’d like you to come in for an audition. I’m sure it won’t be any trial for you, but we have to go through the process before you decide to take a position with us.”

  “Wait,” I said, sitting up straighter and hissing despite trying to grit my teeth and bear it. “Are you offering me a job? To relay the weather for KOCO?”

  “Yes, we are. Like I said, we have to go through the audition process, but your credentials more than speak for themselves, and our very own Preston Turner is retiring. The opportunity has presented itself in a truly beautiful way, wouldn’t you agree?”

  My mouth dropped open, but I couldn’t force any words out. My dream job sat on a silver platter—reporting the weather, telling people when to seek shelter, keeping them safe by communicating with my team . . .

  My team. The show. Shit.

  “Thank you,” I finally said. “It’s an honor for you to ask. I . . .” Could this be possible? Could I do the show and work for this network, too? “I’m going to need some time.”

  “We were hoping to get you in for an audition next week.” The disappointment in her voice was not lost on me.

  I glanced down, my side screaming from all the movement. “I’ve just come off a rough chase where I was injured—”

  “Oh no!” she gasped. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s very recent. EF-4. I got in the way of a tractor tire.”

  “Holy shi—I mean, I’m glad you’re . . . alive.”

  “You and me both,” I said, shaking my head. “But I have a cracked rib and mild concussion I need to heal from.”

  “Of course. Completely understandable.” She sighed on the other end of the phone. “I can’t hold the position forever. With Preston retiring, we will need to start open auditions soon. I called you first because of your credentials and what Ackren said about you.”

  “I understand that. I don’t want special treatment. I just can’t possibly audition next week. Unless you’d want someone limping and hissing as she read the forecasts.”

  Her laugh eased the tension. “Right. Well, you keep me updated on your progress, and I’ll hold out the hopes that you’ll heal quickly and we can get the ball rolling.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It was nice talking to you, Ms. Caster. Please rest up and get well.”

  “I will do my best, thank you.”

  I hung up the phone, holding it without really seeing it, visions of reporting the weather clouding my mind. It was everything I’d ever wanted when I first started college.

  But that was before Dash. Before chasing. Before the show.

  Hail shifted against me, snorting and sighing like her fourth nap had been interrupted by my phone conversation. I rubbed her ears, my mind racing. Two pieces of myself battled inside—the part that wanted to do what I’d always planned to do, and the other one loving the chaos of chasing a little too much to let it go.

  Dash

  AFTER A WEEK of chasing in Kansas without Blake, and I was thrilled to see the next line of promising supercells were working their way through Oklahoma, gathering to hit Tulsa in two days. Which gave me just enough time to stop by my place for one night to check on Blake.

  I made the trip in record time, the need to see her overwhelming. After dropping Paul off at his place and assuring Daniel for the fourth time that I would be ready to head to Tulsa the next day, I pulled into my driveway and killed my truck’s ignition.

  Walking up my front steps, I’d never been happier to be home, and I knew that was because Blake was waiting on the other side. Not that she knew I was swinging by, but the surprise would be so worth it just to get to kiss her again. The week since I’d sent her home with John had felt like a month. The ache I had for Blake was a constant, hungry beast. Even when I’d drowned myself in booze that first night, overwhelmed with all the worries hitting me at once, I still wanted her.

  “Honey, I’m home!” I joked as I walked through the door, instantly dropping to my knees to pet a massively wiggling Hail. “Hey, there’s my girl,” I said, rubbing her ears. “Where’s your mama?”

  Hail’s nails clicked against the hardwood floor as she shook her butt and licked my face.

  “Dash?” Blake called out from upstairs. “Is that you?”

  “Yes! Don’t move! I’m coming to you.” I patted Hail one last time and was on the bottom step when Blake’s mom walked in from the kitchen.

  “I didn’t know you’d be back today!” She smiled at me, wiping her hands on an apron she had to have brought from her house.

  I met her halfway and gave her a hug. “Unfortunately, I’m just passing through. Storms are in Tulsa tomorrow. I wasn’t missing a chance to check on my girls.”

  She grinned and motioned upstairs. “She’s in your room. Been a good patient, surprisingly. She’s listened to me and is letting herself heal.”

  “Of course she listens to you. You’re her mother.”


  She smiled again and shooed me away. “I need to go home and fix the mess I left it in. You can take care of her until you have to go, right?”

  “I think I can handle it.”

  “Thought so. Text me when you leave in the morning, and I’ll head back over.”

  “You’re the best,” I said as she gathered her purse and headed toward the front door.

  I bounded up the stairs seconds after she’d left, rushing to my bedroom like a little boy wanting to see how many presents he had underneath the Christmas tree.

  Blake laid in my bed, a book resting over her chest, her bare legs sticking out of a pair of silk boxer shorts with a flimsy top to match. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to slow my pace and not give in to the demands of my body to feel her skin against mine.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, smiling until she tried to sit up straighter and winced. She made it to sitting before I could get there to help.

  “Take it easy,” I demanded. “You don’t want to push yourself.”

  “Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You sound like my mother. She’s barely let me do a thing.”

  “Which is exactly what she’s supposed to do. You have to rest. Too much moving around will delay the healing process.”

  “Okay, Doctor Lexington.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “I’ll be a good little patient for you.”

  I growled, gently brushing my lips across hers. They felt so warm and inviting, practically begging me to tilt her head back and stroke her tongue with my own. I pulled away, not giving in to the temptation. “A supercell is gathering in Tulsa.”

  “I saw that and wondered if you would head this way. You know, there was also a decent looking cell in Wichita, Kansas. You were closer to that one.”

  “Yes, but that one wasn’t nearly as promising. You know that.” I brushed some hair off her face. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “You know I am,” she said, her hands grazing my chest. “It’s horrible sleeping in this big bed without you.”

  “Horrible?” I cocked an eyebrow at her.

  She smirked. “Well, it isn’t the ideal that is with you in it.”

  “I’m all yours tonight.”

  “All mine?”

  “Blake,” I chided when her hand moved toward the band of my jeans. “That isn’t going to happen.”

  She pursed her lips in the perfect pout.

  “There is no way I can make love to you that doesn’t result in you hurting that rib even more.”

  “We could go slow.” She pawed at my chest again, and I held her hands against me.

  “Even if I went as slow and gentle as possible . . . it would hurt. You can’t even take a deep breath without wincing, and I’ve been known to make you breathe . . . rapidly.”

  She licked her lips, then huffed. “I know you’re right,” she said. “You can’t blame me. I’ve missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  “Catch anything while I was gone?”

  I stretched out and propped myself up on my elbow to look at her. “EF-2. Some good-looking lightning shots, too.”

  “Nice.”

  “What have you been up to?”

  “You know,” she said, glancing around my bedroom. “Laying down or sitting down. Sleep. Eat. Repeat.”

  “You’re miserable.”

  “Totally miserable.” She rubbed her palms over her face. “I haven’t been this immobile . . . ever.”

  “I believe that. You should try to enjoy it. You never take breaks.”

  “This isn’t a break. I was forced into this situation, and it’s driving me crazy.”

  I trailed my finger down the side of her face, across her jaw, and over her collarbone. “There a reason you’re dressed in the thinnest silk imaginable?”

  A devious grin shaped her lips. “It’s hotter up here.”

  I pointed to the ceiling. “That’s what the fan is for.”

  “You know I can’t sleep with a fan going.”

  “This coming from the woman who finds the sounds of a thunderstorm soothing.” I lightly grazed my hand over her right side. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

  “A little,” she said, glancing at my hand. “I can walk short distances without cringing now. The stairs are the hardest, but I take them one at a time and use the rail for support.”

  “I should’ve thought about the stairs.”

  She laughed, wincing. “And what would you have done? Installed a lift?”

  “No,” I said. “Probably would’ve asked John to move the mattress downstairs.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “And put it where?”

  “In the living room. Bigger TV down there. I can move it tonight if you’d like?”

  She shook her head. “I’m perfectly comfortable here, Dash.”

  “Really?” I asked, swallowing hard.

  “Yes. I feel at home here. Plus, the bed smells like you.”

  I grinned, looking at her lips before returning to her eyes. “What would you think about . . . staying here for longer than what it takes you to heal?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Move in with me.” I blurted the words out, knowing this question was the first step in discovering if she was ready to be open to the idea of marriage. If being with me had changed her mind on her firm belief that marriages never worked.

  Her lips popped into the shape of an O as she frantically looked around like the house would swallow her. “You . . . you want me to live with you. Like, all the time?”

  “No, just on weekends.” I laughed. “Yes, all the time. I want you twenty-four seven. And when I came home today, something was different. Knowing you were here, everything made sense.”

  She crossed the fraction of a distance that separated us, pressing her lips to mine. “Yes,” she whispered against my mouth.

  My heart jolted in my chest before an unstoppable grin spread across my face. “Really?”

  “Yes,” she said again, and I mentally did a victory dance. My life had shifted so much in the last year, but now, with this, it felt like the chaotic pieces were finally falling into place.

  “If you weren’t hurt I’d devour you right now.” I growled, burying my head into the pillow next to her.

  “Don’t be a tease.”

  “I mean it. I want to celebrate this.”

  “We can celebrate in other ways.” She lightly scratched my scalp.

  “How?” I raised my head from the pillow, looking up at her.

  She shrugged, her teeth clenching. “Mom has been baking something new every day. Who knows what’s down there? Bring it up and we can watch storm videos while overindulging in sweets.”

  I kissed her quickly before standing. “Sounds perfect. Be right back.” I turned out of the room and headed down the stairs.

  “I’ll just wait here!” she called after me and I chuckled.

  Hail snored from her position on the couch as I pushed through the door to the kitchen, freezing two steps in. The place was spotless. And there was Tupperware everywhere.

  Holy shit it looked like a real home.

  And now it really would be. Our home. Heat rushed through my blood as I pictured all the places I would take Blake—on the kitchen floor, on the stairs, on my dining room table, all of which we’d yet to try.

  Forcing myself to focus, I inspected the insanity that was Blake’s mom’s baking and found a variety of death by chocolate treats. Unable to decide, I grabbed a handful of each cookie and brownie available, stacking them too high on a glass plate, and setting it on the counter. Since she was on painkillers, booze was out of the question, so I opted for milk, pulling down glasses and heading toward the fridge.

  A note on the white board I kept there stopped me from opening the fridge.

  OKC News called cell again. Ms. Owen’s said she can only hold off open auditions for two more weeks. That and well wishes.

  The handwriting wasn’t Blake’s, nor was the tone. I tilt
ed my head, finally getting out the milk and pouring it robotically while my mind tried to calculate why KOCO would be calling Blake. Gathering all the goods, I made the trip back upstairs.

  Blake had my spare laptop open on the bed, one of our favorite YouTube channels up with storm videos ready to go. “You remember this guy? This was in Kansas a few years ago. Such an epic tornado.” She pointed to the screen before glancing at me, eyeing my haul. “You are the perfect man,” she said as I set the plate and glasses on the nightstand. “You okay?” she asked when I didn’t immediately sit down.

  I blinked out of my thoughts, finally focusing on her. “Why is there a note on the fridge for you to call back OKC News?”

  “Oh, I’ve been forgetting my cell downstairs. Mom answers it for me sometimes.” She knitted her eyebrows together. “What did the note say?”

  “Something about auditions?”

  She smiled softly, but it didn’t do anything to loosen the knots in my stomach. “They offered me a position. More of an audition with high probability of a position—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I cut her off.

  “Because it happened the same day I got here and I haven’t really thought much about it since?” She said it like it was a question. “And I’ve been sleeping half the days away. Plus, I can’t even audition yet—”

  “Yet? You’re actually thinking of taking it?”

  I saw her swallow hard as she shifted to sit up straighter. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Yeah,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I raked my hands through my hair, turning in a circle like that would absolve me of the shit that was about to hit the fan.

  “Why?”

  “Because . . .” I dropped my hands. “Why would you want to leave the team?”

  She scoffed. “I wouldn’t leave the team. I’d merely be an extension of it. We could pool our resources and work to bring in faster reports. You know I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “Right, but you’ve got me and chasing and the show.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to take it.”

  “But you’re thinking about it!”

  “Wouldn’t you? Why does this bother you so much?”