Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 223

XANDER'S POV

Mum’s got a meeting at the gallery where her new pieces are being set up, so I figured Jax and I might as well tag along. She’ll call once she’s done, and I’ll drive us back home before our evening flight.

We explored the gallery for a bit, drifting from one room to the next, pausing here and there when something caught his eye. Then, once Mum disappeared into her meeting, I told Jax I’d show him around the town I grew up in. It’s strange, being back....the streets feel familiar but smaller somehow, like they’ve been quietly aging without me. I catch myself wondering what it would’ve been like if I’d never left.

Now, standing in the coffee shop I used to haunt when I was younger, waiting for our drinks, I look out and see Jax leaning against the railing outside, sunlight cutting across his face. He’s got his hands wrapped around his phone, expression soft in that unguarded way he probably doesn’t even know he has. And it hits me....yeah, I’d have missed out on a lot if I’d stayed.

I step out of the shop, two cups warming my palms. “Here,” I say, passing him one.

He takes it, fingers brushing mine for a second longer than necessary. “Thanks.”

I nod toward the next block. “There’s a shop down that street, used to sell retail vintage stuff. Think it’s still open. We should check it out.”

“Sure,” he says, and we start walking, side by side.

The afternoon light spills across the buildings, glinting off the windows and the tops of parked cars. I take a sip of my coffee, the taste hitting like memory....sweet, bitter, a little too strong, and before I can stop myself, I tilt my head toward the coffee shop.

“I actually lost my virginity to a guy who used to work there,” I say, almost lazily.

Jax stops mid-step, the cup halfway to his lips. His eyes cut to me, unimpressed and sharp, and I can practically feel the glare before he speaks.

“Where are the fucking trashcans in this town?” He asks flatly, looking around while holding the coffee like it’s suddenly toxic, like he can’t get rid of it fast enough.

I choke on a laugh.“Don’t be dramatic.”

He gives me a look. “He’s one of the bastards you told me about, isn’t he?”

I know exactly what he means, the short string of mistakes and almosts I once called lovers. I shrug, hand tucked in my pocket. “It was years ago.”

“Still,” he mutters, glancing at the coffee shop again. “If you spot any of them, point them out to me.”

I grin, tilting my head. “And then what?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, taking a sip from his cup, the faintest edge of a smile tugging at his mouth.

I laugh again, quieter this time, because a part of him means it. He probably would do something about it.

We turn down another street, he's close enough to touch, close enough to hear the small things he never says out loud. I glance at him again. “Ziggler offered me a promotion.”

He frowns, brows pulling together. “Promotion?”

“Yeah,” I say, taking a sip of coffee, “He’s got this new project lined up with some of his buddies. Big one. He wants to focus on it, so he asked me to take over the shop.”

He stops for half a second, then smiles. “That’s huge. I’m proud of you.”

I huff a laugh. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

That earns me a frown. “Why not?”

I shrug, kicking at a loose pebble on the sidewalk. “I don’t know. Addy and Layla are my best friends. If I take over, I’d technically be their boss. Feels.....wrong, somehow. And honestly, I don’t even know if I’ve got it in me to be anyone’s boss. I just... I love tattooing. I’d be fine sticking to only that, you know?”

He’s quiet for a moment. When he finally looks at me, his voice is steady. “You should say yes. Stop overthinking it. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think you could handle it. And Addy and Layla don't strike me as the type to let that get between you.”

He nudges my shoulder lightly, eyes still on me. “It’s a good opportunity. Plus you’ve got what it takes, and then some.”

I smile at him, nodding a little. “Maybe I will,” I say, and I mean it. I guess I can kind of picture it.....me running the shop, making it my own. Deep down, I know I can handle it. I just hope I don’t screw it up. We reach the store and step inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. I turn to Jax. “Heather’s really cute, isn’t she?”

He nods. “Yeah, she is.”

I smile at the thought. Before we left the house, she'd been crying her lungs out in Dad’s arms. Nothing he did worked, not until she spotted Jax and reached out like he was her only hope. He’d looked caught off guard, reluctant even, but Dad urged him to take her. The second he did, she went quiet. Just settled.

“She likes you,” I say, glancing at him. “And she’s really picky about who she likes.”

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, something between a hum and a grunt, and we move deeper into the shop. There’s a wall lined with vintage jackets, worn leather, faded denim, that kind of thing. I point to it, and we head that way.

I think about asking if he’s starting to like kids now that he’s been around them a bit, but I stop myself. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m implying something. Just yesterday, I told him I didn’t need anything else, just him....and I meant it. Everything else would be a plus, but Jax is enough. Always will be.

“I need something cool for the concert,” I tell him, running my hand over a jacket sleeve.

He gives me that dry look. “What’s wrong with the clothes you already have?”

I sigh. “You just wouldn’t get it.” Then, teasing, “Don’t worry, I’ll pick something for you too.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth that gives him away.

I glance at my watch. “Mum’s meeting should be ending soon. I should hurry.” I scan the store, trying to spot someone who works here. “I’ll go find someone to take one of these down—”

“Xander.”

I stop mid-turn, looking back. “Yeah?” I raise my brows, waiting.

He’s standing a few feet away, coffee cup in hand, looking straight at me. There’s something tight in his expression, something almost.... nervous. That’s rare for Jax. With him, nerves can mean a lot of things....some good, some not so much.

He swallows, then clears his throat. “I was wondering...”

My chest tightens a little. “Yeah?”

He shifts his weight, fingers tapping the paper cup. “I was thinking.....” Another pause, longer this time, then he finally looks me dead in the eye. “Do you...uh...do you wanna move in together?”