Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 228

Xander doesn’t move. Just watches me with that same look he always gets when I peel back parts of myself like this...steady but full of something I can’t name.

“I turned on those guys next,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Grabbed a chunk of wood off the ground and swung it at whoever got close. Didn’t matter who it was or where I hit them.”

His hand comes up, his thumb brushing over my cheek... careful, like he’s scared I might break if he presses too hard. His other hand finds my hair, combing through it gently. It grounds me more than I want to admit.

“They called the cops,” I say quietly. My voice sounds far away, even to me. “Then one of them tried to hold me down and handcuff me, and I...” I shake my head. “I shoved him off and tackled him too. The other cop drew a gun on me. They knew who I was from all the times they'd dragged Nate and his brothers home, which I'm guessing is the only reason they didn't shoot me. That’s what did it, I think. What finally got me sentenced and locked up.”

His fingers pause for a second in my hair, then keep moving. My throat feels raw. “They read what I’d done in court,” I say, staring past the ceiling now, into nothing. “It was like hearing about someone else. But I knew it was me. The blood had been all over me, the bruises on my hands....it was me. I just didn’t really remember doing half of it. I’d been so fucking furious, it’s like the world went red and stayed that way until days later.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just stays there, breathing with me, holding me in that steady way he does when words would only make things worse.

“Didn’t help that once I was inside, I didn’t stop. Anyone who got too close, anyone who so much as looked at me wrong....I went at them. Didn’t matter why. I couldn’t breathe right if I wasn’t fighting someone.”

The words feel heavy coming out, like they’ve been rotting somewhere inside me for years. His thumb drags over my cheekbone again, slower this time. I can feel his eyes on me, that quiet kind of heartbreak he never lets turn into pity.

He leans in, his forehead brushing mine. “You can’t undo it,” he says softly, his voice threaded with something raw. “Any of it. And I could tell you there’s no point in carrying it around, but I don’t have the right to say that. Not when I don’t know what it’s like to live with what you’ve lived with.” He pauses, eyes holding mine. “What I can tell you is that one day, you’ll look back on all of it, and it won’t hurt the same way. It’ll feel distant....like a shadow that’s finally stopped following you.”

He leans in closer. “But you’ve gotta promise me something, Jax. If anything’s ever wrong, if you’re not okay, even for a moment....you tell me. Hmm?”

For a second, I can’t look at him, because the way he’s looking at me makes it hard to breathe. Then I manage a low, “Yeah, I promise.” My voice scrapes the edge of something I can’t quite name. I take a breath, force my eyes up to meet his. “But you need to promise me something too.” He looks at me, unflinching. I can already see the vow in his eyes before I even speak, “Promise you’ll stay. I can’t do any of this without you.” The words feel too bare, too stripped down, but they’re true. “I know it’s asking a lot...”

He cuts me off, shaking his head. “It’s not,” he says, thumb brushing my jaw. “I want you to be selfish with me. Ask for and take whatever you need, all of it.”

Something in my chest twists. I shift us until we’re lying side by side, his head still close enough that I can feel his breath against my skin. And I know....quietly, that the future of what we have will depend on the next few months. On how I carry all these changes and expectations. On how I learn to hold onto him without breaking the things that finally feel right.

He presses a soft kiss to my temple before murmuring, “You hungry? I can heat something up for you.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

He studies me for a second, then says quietly, “Go shower. Get some rest. I’ll finish up some work and join you.”

He starts to move, but I tighten my arm around him. Not yet.

He stills, looking at me, and suddenly it’s there again....that same feeling I had when I asked him to move in. That knot of nerves in my chest, only now it’s heavier and louder.

I blink a couple of times, trying to find the right words, and when I do, my voice feels too small for what I’m trying to say.

“I’ll give you everything you want,” I tell him, the words forcing their way out of me like a confession. “All of it. It might take time....a lot of it. But I’ll make sure you get everything you want.”

He goes still. I feel his breath shift to something uneven, and when I meet his eyes, they’re wider, glassier. His lips part, but no sound comes out at first. Then, finally, in a voice rough enough to shake me, he says, “As long as it’s what you want too.”

The truth lands like something weighty and steady inside me. I nod, feeling it settle deep in my bones.

“I want everything with you,” I whisper.

The words hang there between us, quiet but solid. His hand finds mine, fingers threading through, and I know I’ve never meant anything more in my life. He sits up, a smile curving his lips as he looks away and runs a hand over his face. He lets out a breath, the kind that sounds halfway between disbelief and amusement, then finally glances back at me.

“I’m really glad you objectified and harassed me until I had no choice but to give in,” he says. “Technically, we wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

I can’t help the low chuckle that slips out of me....it’s quiet, but it loosens something inside my chest and lets the air in again.

“Yeah,” I murmur, smiling up at him. “Me too.”