Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 161

JAX'S POV

I’m losing control, and it terrifies me more than anything else ever has. Not the kind of control you muscle back with discipline or grit.....but the kind that slips through your hands no matter how tight you hold on. Xander did that to me.

He’s the one with the power now, even if I’ll never let those words leave my mouth. He doesn’t see it, but every second he’s not in my reach feels like a risk I can’t stomach. The idea of something happening to him and me not being there to stop it? That thought is a blade pressed right into my ribs.

So when I told him about him making me overly attached, it was nowhere close to the truth, which is worse. It’s a feral need that's constantly choking me now. I'd fired up the bike, let the engine snarl loud enough to cover my silence. He'd gotten on behind me, arms circling my waist. This time, he held me tighter, tight enough to feel the shake I couldn’t hide, tight enough to steady it. And it’s fucked, how that single touch ruined me. How it made me want to turn the key off, pull him down onto the pavement, and mark him up until the whole world knew whose he is.

Now I’m in the kitchen, trying to make his lunch like it’s a war I can win. Containers lined up, lids snapping shut, anything to drown out the ache that’s been crawling through me since he left for the gym. But it doesn’t. Ninety damn minutes, and my chest felt like a hollow cage the whole time. I don’t know why it’s happening....no, that’s a lie. I know exactly why. I just don’t understand why this panic owns me.

The front door opens, I wait a few seconds, and finally....there he is. Damp hair, shirt clinging to his frame, looking like he didn’t just rip me apart by being gone. I force the thoughts away, shove the last container into the bag too hard.

“I’m running late,” he says, tossing his protein shake on the counter.

Then he’s right at my side, his arm curling around my waist, dragging me into his gravity. I turn toward him, and he catches me with a kiss. Quick and fleeting, but not enough. It leaves my blood running hotter. He lingers, though, chin on my shoulder, his gaze pinning me like he’s dissecting me from the inside. His eyes pinning me like he already knows. And he does, he always does. He’s got this way of seeing straight through me, peeling me down to the nerve without me saying a word. He sees too much.

“I’ll stay,” he says quietly. “I’ll visit next month instead.”

My throat knots. “You’re doing that because of me?”

His smile curves, sharp and soft at once. “Of course it's because of you. And because my sister’s birthday’s next month. Works out better anyway.”

I shake my head, jaw set. “You should go. It’s only two days.”

His hand slips under my shirt, warm palm on bare skin, thumb flicking lazily over my ribs. “Two days too long. You think I’m built for that kind of deprivation?” His tone dips low and taunting. “I’ll need time to train for it first. And two weeks isn't nearly enough.”

My hand clamps around his wrist, holding him there. My voice cracks rough. “You’re saying this because of what I said last night. That’s why you don’t wanna go.”

He tilts his head, lips brushing against my jaw, words burning into me. “Partly. But mostly because I don’t want to leave you. Simple as that.” His breath ghosts my skin. “If I’d rather stay here with my painfully addictive boyfriend, ” his mouth drags lower, over my neck, “....then that’s where I’m staying.”

I shake my head, jaw tightening until it aches. I can’t do this to him. Can’t keep him chained to me because I’ve got some fucked-up panic in my chest every time he’s out of sight. That’s fucked up. It's my rot and I won’t let it spread through him.

“Go, Xander.” I say finally, the words scraping on the way out. “You want to, so you should.”

He goes quiet, then finally lets go of me. The warmth disappears, and suddenly the kitchen feels colder than it should. He leans back against the counter beside me, arms folded over his chest, his gaze too steady. Watching me the way he always does, like I’m some storm he’s trying to read.

“You’ll be okay?” he asks, voice low.

I let out a dry laugh, shake my head again. “Why wouldn’t I be? Pretty sure I can still function like a normal human for two damn days without you breathing down my neck.”

A lie, but I hope he doesn't catch it.

He nods, but it’s automatic and empty. Not understanding, just movement. His arms tighten across his chest. Then his voice drops lower, more cautious. “Does that mean you won’t go to that place?”

It hits me before I can answer. The Pit. That’s what this is really about. He’s not just worried about me unraveling without him, he’s worried about me stepping into that ring again, about what I’ll look like when he comes back.

I turn to face him fully, his words catching fire inside me.

“You promise you’ll be bruise free when I return?” he asks. And fuck, it’s not a question so much as a plea, cloaked in this light tone to hide the crack in his voice. And it guts me.

“Xander....” It comes out like defeat, not a word but a surrender. Because we’ve never actually talked this through. Not properly. Every time it comes close, we circle around it, leave it half buried. He hates that I go there, can’t stand it. I’ve seen it in his eyes, felt it in the sharpness of his silence after. And I’ve told him....again and again, that I need it. So I can't promise that I won't go back, especially when he won't be here.

It’s not about him. Not about the good not being good enough. God knows it is, he’s more than enough. It’s about the heaviness that builds in my gut until it’s all I can taste, all I can breathe. And if I don’t bleed it out, it swallows me whole. The Pit is the only place that weight ever cracks.

He doesn’t answer me. Just grabs the packed lunch off the counter, movements controlled in that way he gets when he’s hiding something behind his calm. “I’m staying. End of story,” he mutters, not even looking at me, and then he’s walking away.