Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 130

The street is quiet when we pull up to my apartment building, the kind of quiet that hums in your ears after the noise of the engine cuts out. I climb off the bike first, unhooking my helmet, fingers brushing the damp chill in the air. The sky’s heavy with clouds, thick and swollen, like it’s holding its breath.

I place the helmet on the seat, but my eyes stay on Jax. He’s slow climbing down, slower than usual. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even give me one of his muttered comments about the ride or the stoplights or the idiot who cut him off three blocks back. He’s... quiet. Not just quiet but hollow.

He tips his chin up, studying the bruised sky, then exhales. “Looks like rain. I’ll find somewhere better to park.” His voice is even, casual, but it doesn’t land that way. He gestures toward the door. “Go on in first.”

I don’t move. My arms ache with the weight of the bag in my hand, the antiques wrapped in newspaper, the canvases pressed awkwardly together, but that’s not what keeps me still. What keeps me rooted is him. The silence.

I step closer, close enough that I catch the faint bite of smoke clinging to his jacket, the warmth rolling off him even as the air cools. His eyes meet mine, dark and restless.

“You look spooked,” I say.

He frowns, like I’ve spoken a language he doesn’t understand. “What?”

“You heard me.” My voice is low, steady. “Is it about what I said at the café. The kid thing?”

His gaze drops, then flicks back up, sharp and almost defensive. A pause, then his voice...lower now, weighted. “You terrify me sometimes.”

The words cut deeper than they should, and for a second, I almost laugh, but it dies in my throat. My chest tightens instead. My mouth opens, but it takes a beat before anything comes out. “Terrify you how?”

He drags a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to strip away thoughts he doesn’t want me touching. His shoulders rise, fall. He shakes his head. “I don't know. Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.” My words slice sharper than I mean them to, but I don’t regret it. “And you do know.”

His silence stretches, heavy, the kind that wants to choke you. I exhale, shake my head, forcing a rough smile. “Maybe I’m more like my mum than I thought...too much, too soon, too strong. But I wasn’t saying that to scare you. I’m not going to force anything on you. Not now, not five months from now, not five years from now....”

He cuts me off with a look. It's sharp and almost warning. My throat goes tight.

“That,” I say, my voice dipping quieter, “...that look. What exactly are you thinking?”

He shifts, lowers himself onto the edge of the bike. The metal creaks beneath his weight, echoing in the empty street. His knees fall open, hands braced loosely on either side of him, like he’s caught between letting go and holding ground. His sigh is jagged. “You’re so damn comfortable talking about the future. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s just....” He trails off, staring at the pavement.

“Like it’s just what?”

His head shakes once. “I’d rather take things day by day. See how it goes.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing,” I say, quiet but steady.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I’m....”

“Scared of the future?” I finish.

His lips twitch, not a smile, not denial either. He shrugs, eyes dark under the streetlight. “Wary of it. Anything could happen between now and next week.”

“Anything?” My brow arches. “That’s a pretty vague term.”

“That’s the point.” His eyes lift, pinning me. “Anything could mean.... anything. Shit you don’t see coming. Shit that wrecks you before you’ve even had the chance to brace for it.” His voice is a rasp now, and I see the truth sitting heavy in it....the ghosts he never names, the weight he never drops.

I push anyway, reckless. “Like you not liking me anymore?”

His head snaps, immediate. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t...” He exhales sharp, shakes his head. “It’s not about how I feel about you. You just wouldn't understand, Xander.”

My chest loosens, tightens again all at once with anger towards that last statement. I study him, the slope of his shoulders, the stubborn line of his jaw. “Yes I would, and I desperately want to. But you don’t even give me the chance to do so. You don’t give me enough to fucking try.”

His throat bobs, silent.

“I’m not the kind of person who half-asses anything, Jax. When I’m in, I’m in. And that includes us.” My voice is raw but steady, carrying the weight of the truth between us. “Everyone’s scared of the future on some level. It’s unpredictable, it’s messy, it’s out of our control. And yeah...I’m guessing that’s what you were trying to say. But that’s not enough reason to stop hoping. If anything, it should be the reason we hold tighter.”

Rain starts soft, thin needles tapping the street, cooling the air around us. I tilt my face up, let the drops hit my skin, then lower my gaze back to him. He hasn’t moved. He’s just watching me, chest rising slow and his eyes unreadable.

“You can’t expect me not to think about the future,” I say, firmer now, the drizzle dampening my hair, dripping down my jaw. “Because how the hell are we supposed to get there if we don’t? How am I supposed to believe you’ll ever feel safe enough to let me all the way in if you only ever focus on the next twenty-four fucking hours? Hours we don’t even always spend together. That won’t cut it, Jax. Not for me. Not for us.”

The rain thickens, streaking silver through the dim light, splattering against the bike seat, dotting his jacket. I shift the bag higher on my arm, swallow the tight ache in my throat. “I wasn’t trying to freak you out. And I’m sorry if I did.” I gesture faintly toward the canvases. “But that aside, I hope you really think about everything I just said.”

For a moment, it feels like he might answer. But the rain’s picking up, cool drops sliding into my hair, down my cheek. I look away first. “Go park your bike before you catch a cold,” I tell him, voice as steady as I can get it. “I’ll head in.”

That silence of his, it always feels like a wall I want to put my fists through.

And before I can let him see the way my chest is splintering open, I turn and walk toward the building entrance, every step heavy with the storm pressing in from above......and between us.

Behind me, I can still feel his silence, thick and burning, pressed into the back of my neck.