Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 211

Dad beams, says “Likewise,” then throws an arm around Jax’s shoulders like they’ve been friends for years, he smirks at me and says, “So, you like them tall, huh?”

“Dad,” I warn, dragging a hand down my face. “Don’t start. I’m too exhausted to fire back tonight.”

He just laughs, full and unapologetic, and keeps Jax tucked under his arm as he leads him into the house like he’s adopted him already. Jax shoots me a look over his shoulder, the faintest plea for help, but there’s no real panic in it. Just mild discomfort, like a cat being carried wrong but deciding to just let it happen.

Inside, it’s mostly the same. Except now the place is scattered with new vintage pieces... brass lamps, random knick knacks, delicate lace that wasn’t here before.

“Where’s Mom?” I ask.

Dad turns. “Out in her lair,” he says, meaning her work studio slash library in the garden. “I’ll go get her.”

He hands Jax the half-empty wine. “Help yourself son. I’ll be right back.”

Then, already halfway across the room, he calls out, “Chérie!” voice carrying through the house, bright with laughter. “I’ve got a surprise for you, and you’re gonna love it!”

His footsteps fade, I turn to Jax slowly. He’s staring down at the bottle of wine like it might offer him a manual for surviving my family. I pluck it from his hands and set it on the table.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” I ask, fighting back a smile. He swallows, turns toward me and glares. I gesture for him to sit, but he shakes his head, scanning the room instead. His gaze lands on the wall of framed photos and he walks over to it, so I follow him.

There are so many... birthdays, Christmas mornings, messy beach trips, whole lives stacked in wooden frames. We can hear my parents out back, voices bright and overlapping, probably Dad trying to coax Mom in from her studio.

Jax stops at one photo, and I know exactly which one. I must’ve been around nine. I’m standing between my siblings, who are holding up a huge fish Dad caught. Except I’m bawling my fucking eyes out.

Jax lets out a soft chuckle, points at it. “That you?”

I shake my head solemnly. “My cousin.”

He arches a brow. “Your cousin, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, lips twitching. “Poor Arthur’s an empath. He felt heartbroken for the fish.”

Jax stares at me and his mouth curves. Then he studies a few more photos and winces almost apologetically. “I'm guessing your good looks came in much later in life, huh?”

I blink at him, offended. “Excuse me? I was an adorable child. My parents got compliments everywhere we went.”

He laughs quietly, and for a second, the tension in his shoulders finally breaks.... just a little, like maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

But then, right on cue, the back door bangs open, and my mother’s voice cuts through the calm like a storm dressed in silk.

“If this is you trying to get me into bed again, William, I’ll rip out your herb garden and turn the whole space into my meditation sanctuary!” she’s shouting. “We can make all the wild, crazy love you want after I survive this bloody exhibit!”

Jax turns to me, eyebrows raised. I just lift mine back, shrug, lips twitching. I'd already told him she's eccentric. He looks like he’s not sure if he should be alarmed or entertained.

She appears in the archway a second later, still mid-rant, and then stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes go wide, lips parting in stunned silence. The same eyes as mine, warm and brown but hers are impossibly expressive.

She’s got paint smudged across one cheek, her long dark hair falling loose around her face, and she’s wearing one of her long vintage gowns, the kind that makes her look like she stepped out of another era. There’s always something theatrical about her, she never just enter a room.

She turns to Dad as if to confirm that what she’s seeing is real, and he only smirks....smug and utterly pleased with himself.

Her gaze flicks back to me, then to Jax, then back to me again.

“Surprise,” I say, smiling, voice thick with affection. She gasps, both hands flying up to her face, and right on cue, exactly as I knew she would, she starts crying. Pure joy, loud and beautiful.

I laugh quietly, stepping closer. “Aren’t you going to hug me? You’re always saying you miss me dreadfully.”

She nods through the tears, takes quick steps forward, and wraps me in the kind of hug that squeezes the breath from my lungs.

“Oh, my baby,” she says, pulling back just enough to cup my face between her palms. Her hands are warm, her rings cool against my skin. “Let me look at you.”

She presses two quick kisses to my cheek before pulling me into her arms again.

And in that instant, I realize how much I've missed her. Love in this house is never subtle. It’s loud and absolutely unfiltered.

She finally lets me go, her hands lingering like she’s still trying to make sure I’m real, and then her gaze lands on Jax. Her entire face lights up.....that familiar spark that always comes right before she says something unconventional.

“Oh, and you brought your lover!” she announces, as if she’s unveiling a priceless artifact. The joy in her voice practically fills the room.

Before Jax can react, she pulls him into a hug, just pure overwhelming affection. I catch the faint look of surprise that flashes across his face before he relaxes, giving in to it. He’s stiff at first, but by the time she pulls back, he’s stopped looking like he wants to escape through the nearest window.

She keeps her hands on his arms, studying him like she’s assessing a sculpture. Her eyes narrow in admiration. “Oh my,” she murmurs. “Darling, you must model for me.”

Then she turns to my dad, her eyes sparkling like she’s just had a genius revelation. “William, tell me he wouldn’t be perfect for that piece on Achilles at the Shore!”

Dad’s eyebrows shoot up, and he looks genuinely impressed. “My God, you’re right,” he says, nodding.

I drag a hand down my face. “Please stop making my boyfriend uncomfortable.”

She turns to me, clearly delighted by how flustered I sound. “He’s scared I’ll embarrass him,” she tells Jax, as if I’m not standing right here. Then she claps her hands together, energized. “We must celebrate! Something with soul...wine, laughter, good company.”

Dad perks up immediately. “Perfect time to pull out the Château Margaux, 2008!” he says, already halfway to the kitchen.

“Mum,” I groan, “...we’re exhausted. Maybe we can do this in the morning?”

She gasps, clutching her chest like I’ve offended her sensibilities. “It *is* morning.”

“Mum—”

“Oh, hush.” She waves me off, like I’m the dramatic one. “Go lie down if you must, lovebug, but he”...she points to Jax, smiling at him with fond mischief...“he stays with me.”

Jax blinks, she hooks her arm through his and her voice softens, warm and full of that magnetic charm that makes everyone love her. “Come on, darling. You’ve got the eyes of a man who feels things. I need fresh eyes on what I’ve been working on.....someone whose soul still remembers how to tell the truth.”

Jax glances at me over his shoulder, that tiny lift of his brow asking ‘you're seriously letting her take me?’

I mouth ‘sorry’ as I follow behind them.