Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 146

We both turn at once, like kids caught sneaking around, and I peel myself off the wall. Layla’s there—short white dress, her hand clamped around Adam’s like she’s dragging him forward against his will. He looks reluctant as hell, but she’s glowing enough for the both of them.

Before I can brace, she’s throwing her arms around Xander. “What are you two doing lurking out in the hallway? Addy texted asking when we’d get here.”

Xander doesn’t answer the question, just says smoothly, “You look great,” like it’s the only thing worth noting. Layla beams, does a little twirl right there in the hall like she’s showing off for the world.

Then she turns to me.

I don’t have time to sidestep before she’s hugging me too, pressing her warmth against me, her voice bubbling against my chest “I’m so glad you decided to come!”

I don’t hug back. My hands stay where they are, rigid, until I finally put one against her shoulder and push her back. Not hard, but enough. She doesn’t seem to notice, or she pretends not to, still smiling like everything’s perfect.

Xander gives Adam a quiet, “Hey,” and Adam mutters it back, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Layla’s already tugging him toward Addy’s door, calling over her shoulder, “Come on, you two, hurry up.”

I glance at Xander. He’s watching me, the corner of his mouth curved in that small, steadying smile that always hits harder than I want to admit. He casually threads his fingers through mine. “Let’s go,” he says, like there’s no reason to hesitate.

We catch up, and before I know it, Layla’s knocking like she owns the place. It’s not even a minute before Addy swings the door open.

She’s holding a tray, shot glasses lined up like soldiers. Her grin is sharp, already half amused, half challenging. “Did you all come together?” she asks, and before any of us can answer, she’s shoving a glass into each hand. “No one’s walking inside until they’ve had one.”

She lifts the last one for herself and raises it high, like it’s some kind of ceremony.

Xander chuckles under his breath, eyeing the amber liquid. “At this rate, we’ll be hammered in an hour.”

“That’s the point,” Addy fires back, her gaze flicking very briefly...pointedly, between me and Adam. “Just to open everyone up. Make you relax.”

They all raise their glasses, a messy kind of toast, and down them. Everyone except me. I pause, glass hovering at my lips, the burn of it already in the air. Then I catch Xander watching me, waiting....like it matters to him whether I go along or not.

So I tip my head back and swallow. The fire trails down, hot and bitter, then I slam the glass back on the tray.

“Good,” Addy says, satisfied, pushing the door wide. “Now you can come in.”

Layla launches herself at her in a hug, squealing something, while the rest of us file past. Addy playfully swats at Xander’s leg with her foot as he moves by and he laughs low, easy in a way that makes it obvious he belongs here.

I follow, wondering what the hell I’m doing walking into this.

The apartment smells like pizza and something sharp....vodka maybe. The table’s a mess of stacked boxes, bowls of chips and pretzels, bottles of cheap alcohol and beer. Xander drops the gin on the tiny strip of space left and guides me toward the corner of the couch, like he’s making sure I’ve got a wall at my back. And there’s a bean bag that looks like it got dragged from someone’s bedroom just to make room for everyone.

Adam lowers himself onto the couch too, stiff, like he’s sitting in a courtroom. Layla folds herself right beside him, practically glued to his side. Addy takes the bean bag.

Adam’s the first one to break the silence, voice tight but polite. “Thanks for inviting us.” His hand shifts against his thigh, betraying his nerves. I know why, he doesn’t like crowds either. Doesn’t like being looked at too closely. But it’s not the same as me....I avoid people because they drain me. He avoids them because of the things they might see. Still, he’s here....trying. I'm guessing because Layla, like Xander, can bulldoze past the walls you think you’ve built high enough.

Addy waves him off, her laugh light. “Please, I should be the one thanking you guys for coming.”

She doesn’t stop there.... “So, listen...there’s this insanely hot guy who just moved in, like, two floors up. I met him in the elevator and I swear, I almost bit my tongue asking where the hell he’s been this whole time. Obviously, I asked him out for drinks—” she leans forward, wide-eyed, “...and he said yes. But then the next morning I see him, walking out with his wife and kid. Like, full stroller situation.” She blows out a breath, shaking her head. Layla laughs, eyes bright.

Xander leans forward, flips open one of the pizza boxes, and grabs a slice. He offers it to me first before taking one for himself, and I take it mostly because he handed it over, not because I want it. His easy movements don’t match the chaos swirling around in my chest.

Addy’s already on her feet, pouring drinks like a bartender in her own private club. “I was actually gonna make guacamole for those chips—” she gestures toward a sad-looking bowl of tortilla triangles “....even bought the ingredients. But then I ran out of willpower.”

Layla giggles, all lightness. “Maybe Jax can make some.”

Addy gasps, eyes widening at me like she just remembered. “Oh my God, right. I almost forgot you’re like...Michelin level good.”

And now every set of eyes is on me. I freeze, the pizza slice limp in my hand. I hate the attention, the weight of it pressing down.

Layla tilts her head toward Adam, beaming. “I took some of the food Jax made home once. You loved it, right?”

Adam looks at me then, holding my gaze steady, his voice even. “How come I never knew you could cook? All the years we’ve known each other.”

I shrug, dry as sand. “Never came up.”

Then I grab my drink and down it in one go, the burn searing down my throat. It’s easier than answering.

Addy tips her glass, grinning at me like she’s already had three too many. “You know what you should do, Jax? Start a TikTok page. Post clips of you cooking. They’re all the rage these days.”

I scoff, not dignifying it with a response, but she’s undeterred.

Layla chuckles into her drink before Adam’s hand snakes out, curling gently around her wrist. He gives her a look. She sighs like she’s been through this routine a hundred times. “I remember. Four’s the max.” She pulls her hand back and takes her sip anyway. Then she swivels toward me. “As long as it’s not one of those food porn ones.”

I frown. The words land wrong in my head. Against my better judgment, the question slips out. “Food porn?”

Xander groans, his voice low and dry. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing.”

Layla laughs, already half gone, eyes sparkling. “I’ll never be able to look at citrus the same way again.”

Addy’s already digging through her phone like someone on a mission. “Okay, no, no...you have to see this. Allow me to introduce you to what the internet has become.”

She finds whatever she’s looking for and flips the screen toward us. I lean in without meaning to. Some guy is “baking,” but not really....his hands linger too long on the dough, movements deliberate, obscene in a way that makes my jaw tighten. He cups, kneads, strokes like he’s making out with the fucking dough, some weirdly sexual backtrack playing.

I visibly recoil.