Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 219

The music starts and his parents start to dance like it’s the most natural thing in the world. William pulls her close, one hand at her waist, the other clasping hers, and she leans into him as if it’s muscle memory.

Everyone watches, but there’s no surprise in it. No laughter either. Just quiet affection, like this is something they’ve seen a hundred times before.

Heather stirs against me, mumbling to herself in that toddler language that’s all vowels and conviction. When I glance down, she’s blinking up at me, wide green eyes. Her cheeks are soft and flushed, her brown curls an unruly halo.

She babbles something that sounds suspiciously like “hungry,” then with alarming determination, leans forward, grabs a fistful of food from my plate, and holds it up toward my mouth.

I stare at her, startled. “Oh... that's not—”

She makes an impatient noise and waves the handful insistently, as if to say... *come on man, don't make this weird.*

I can’t help it, I laugh. It comes out rough but real. I catch her tiny hand gently, trying not to crush her determination, and whisper, “Bossy, aren't you?”

Something compels me to trail the back of my hand down her cheek before I quickly pull back. She blinks, grins up at me, and promptly uses her other hand to try and reach for more food.

“Oh, no you don’t.” I catch that one too, both her wrists now small and warm against my palms. She giggles, this wild, high-pitched sound that feels like it belongs in sunlight.

And I just sit there, awkward as hell but weirdly soft inside. I try coaxing the food out of her hand, mumbling something like, “Hey, let’s put that down, yeah?” She resists. But somehow, miraculously, I manage to get her to drop it on the table.

Then she’s squirming, trying to stand up on my thighs. My pulse jumps. I steady her instinctively, palms braced at her sides, terrified I’ll do something wrong. She’s so fucking small, so breakable. It hits me that one wrong move, one careless shift, and I could hurt her. And that thought alone makes my heart pound like I’ve never held anything this fragile before.

She wobbles, finds her balance, and for one triumphant second she grins, then promptly grabs my face. Tiny greasy fingers dig into my cheeks in a fierce, claw-like grip. I wince through the sting as I gently ease her hands off.

Xander’s laugh comes from beside me. “She’s really strong, isn’t she?”

She turns toward him, as if she knows he’s talking about her, and lets out a proud squeal.

Damien leans forward from across the table, tilting his head to the side. “Be careful, man,” he says, brushing his hair back to reveal a tiny crescent-shaped mark on his neck. “Don’t let that cute little face fool you.”

I blink, momentarily confused until he points at Heather. “Got all cheery when she saw me this morning,” he continues, tone half-serious, half-traumatized. “I thought we were having a moment, so I picked her up. Next thing I know...bam.” He gestures at the bite mark. “She’s a violent little shark.”

I glance down at her, still perched proudly on my lap, her tiny fingers tangled in my shirt, eyes wide and innocent. She babbles something unintelligible, all dimples and mischief. I nod slowly. “Thanks for the warning.”

At the piano, Alyssa’s song comes to an end. Xander’s parents rise with exaggerated grace, his father bows dramatically and his mum curtsies with equal flair. They both burst into laughter before leaning in to kiss, lost in their own world.

Alyssa stands and comes over to reclaim Heather. But the child clings harder, pressing her face into my chest with a stubborn little sound of protest. Alyssa tries again, same result. The tiny arms lock tighter around my neck, surprisingly strong for someone so small.

Everyone laughs, including Xander, who leans back in his chair, grinning at the sight. “Guess you’ve been chosen,” he murmurs.

Eventually everyone’s finished eating. I offer to do the dishes, but they all refuse at once, like I’d suggested burning the house down. So I sit back instead, half-listening as William moves to the piano again. His fingers glide over the keys, coaxing something gentle and nostalgic out of the instrument. Xander's mum right beside him, eyes closed, swaying a little, like the song is something they share.

They’ve opened a bottle of wine, poured a glass for everyone. Heather’s asleep now, curled in Alyssa’s arms who'd finally managed to take her when she got tired. Gabriel’s out cold in Xander’s, head tucked beneath his chin. Alyssa rises quietly, smiling softly as she says, “We should probably put them to bed.”

Xander nods and gets up, careful not to jostle the kid. He looks so natural like that...steady, patient and gentle in a way that catches me off guard every single time. I watch him go, unable to stop myself.

When he’s gone, Erin breaks the silence, turning to me with that knowing grin. “You two make a really good-looking couple, by the way.” Then she elbows Damien lightly. “Don’t you think so, babe?”

Damien nods. There’s a lot of Xander in his face, but he carries it much differently. “Yeah,” he says, setting down his glass. “You know, I had this whole threatening speech ready for the guy Xander ended up with. Something about how if he ever hurt my baby brother, I’d hunt him down, break a few bones....classic big brother stuff.” He pauses, smirking. “Then I saw you, and I realized if it came down to a fight, I’d fucking lose.”

A chuckle slips out of me before I can stop it. “You don’t have to worry about that,” I assure him, my eyes drifting toward the hallway where Xander disappeared, then back to Damien. “I’d never hurt him.”

And I mean it. God, I mean it.

I hope it’s true.

I need it to be.

Because if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that I’d burn every part of myself before I ever let him down. I’m not even close to perfect, but I’m really fucking trying. I’m determined to make it true, to be the kind of man who doesn’t run when things get hard, who doesn’t ruin the things that make him feel alive.

For Xander, I’ll make sure of it. Damien studies me for a second, expression softening. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I can see that.”

He leans back, folds his arms, and after a beat, asks, “You love him?”

I don’t even hesitate. “More than anything.”

The words fall out of me like they’ve been waiting their whole life to be said.