Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 251

I’m barely dry when I drop onto the edge of the bed. I caught my reflection on the way out of the bathroom and it was worse than I expected. A face I barely recognize staring back at me. I don’t bother with first aid, I don’t have it in me. And what would a few bandages even fix? There’s no wrapping this kind of damage.

Sleep isn’t an option either, I reach across the mattress and grab the pillow Xander used when he slept over. I pull it into my lap, fingers sinking into the indent his head used to make. I lower my face to it, breathing in slow, hoping for even the faintest trace of him. The soap he uses, the way he always smells like something warm I can never name. Anything. Just something of him I can cling to before I come apart entirely.

But there’s barely anything left. Just the ghost of it, and that hurts worse. My mind drags back to that phone call....Xander’s voice tight and strained, then the click when he hung up and the silence after. I keep replaying it, picking it apart, wondering if that was it. If he’s given up. If I finally pushed him far enough away that he realized I’m not worth trying for.

It eats at me, because he’d have every right to. I’ve given him nothing, no reason to stay. I’ve been a headache, a mess, a weight around his neck. Always taking from him....his patience, his steadiness, his damn hope.....because it was easier than admitting I had nothing to give back. Easier than facing the kind of man I’ve become.

My eyes drift around the room, landing on the closed balcony doors. I’d started letting go of this place. Started imagining something better....new walls, clean air, a space untouched by the shit I’ve dragged through my life. A place for him. For us. And there was this part of me, small and stupid and starving, that was desperately looking forward to it.

And now I’m here again. Same version of myself I keep trying and failing to escape. Adam’s words won’t leave me alone. The part about Xander being a wreck because I wasn’t there. It slams into me again, I wince, pressing the heel of my hand to my temple. The pain spikes behind my eyes, hot and blinding. Everything hurts, but my head is a different beast entirely....like someone’s driving a nail straight through my skull.

I lean forward and tug open the nightstand drawer, searching for the painkillers. My hand closes around the bottle, but I freeze before I can pull it out. Because there, tucked beneath it, is the envelope Nate left behind for me. It sits there like it’s been waiting. Like it knew I’d end up right here, in this exact state, too raw to breathe and too tired to care.

All I can do is stare at it, feeling something crack deep inside me. I’d thought about getting rid of it more than once. Burning it, tossing it, leaving it somewhere no one would ever find it.

When Dorian first told me he was selling the building and they were all moving on with their lives, he asked if there was anything I wanted from either the restaurant or their house. Anything I wanted to keep. I remember walking through, every step echoing off memories I didn’t want. I’d looked at everything and couldn’t bring myself to touch a single thing. The idea of keeping any part of that place felt like willingly tying a rope around my own throat.

So I took nothing.

Dorian sent me cash after the sale. More than I deserved. More than I could look at without feeling wrong. He said Joe would’ve wanted me to have it. I used it to rent this apartment and renovate the kitchen when I got out. This place that ended up being just as haunted as the last.

I take the painkillers, swallowing them with a half glass of water. The bottle clatters into the drawer when I toss it back, and I start to shut it, but then my eyes catch on the envelope again. My hand stalls on the drawer handle.

I breathe out slowly. Think of that morning before Xander’s accident, and him telling me I had to stop overthinking. Stop hesitating. It’s almost ridiculous, how something so small can feel so impossible.

I inhale, and before I can change my mind, I snatch the envelope off the drawer, my fingers shake as I open the flap. I turn it over and let everything spill out onto the sheets.

Pictures, a stack of them. Some I’d looked at with Xander that morning. Some I hadn’t dared to touch. A small flash drive slides out last, and I stare at it like it might explode.

I pick up the photos one at a time. And it’s like unlocking a doorway into a life I buried so deep I almost convinced myself none of it happened. Faces I used to see everyday. Rooms I used to walk through. A younger version of me staring back....different posture, different eyes, different weight on his shoulders.

Every now and then, I find a picture that almost pulls a smile out of me. A stupid moment, a time when I looked like I belonged somewhere. But the memories behind them hit just as fast. Every good thing is followed by all the bad that came after.

I put those aside quick.

And then there are the ones with Andrew. I barely breathe when I look at them. Him grinning, wide and bright. Me beside him, sometimes smiling, sometimes caught mid-laugh. The ones where he looks sad and lost....almost pleading without knowing it.

Those are the hardest.

Those I place face-down. Because they don’t feel like memories. They feel like warnings I never listened to.

I eventually slide the photos back into the drawer. I don’t look at them again, not right now, maybe not ever. The drawer shuts with a soft thud.

But the flash drive I set on the nightstand instead. I fall backward onto the bed and drag a breath into my lungs. It comes out rough, like I’m exhaling pieces of myself. And in those silent, stretching hours that follow, where the night feels colder than it should...my mind goes everywhere. Turns over every wound, every mistake, every ghost I’ve tried to outrun.

But no matter where it wanders, it keeps circling back to one place, one person.

Xander....

And I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to do any of this without him. I don’t even know if I can.

Two hours later, I push myself upright because lying still feels like drowning. My eyes land on the flash drive, and before I can talk myself out of it, I grab it. Then I remember I don’t even own a laptop.

“Perfect,” I mutter under my breath as I drag myself to the living room.

I don’t bother with the lights. Darkness feels easier. I flick the TV on, shove the flash drive into the side, and sit down on the couch like I’m about to face a firing squad. There’s only one saved clip. My thumb hovers over the remote, but I hit play anyway.

Nate’s face fills the screen instantly, young Nate. Softer and with that familiar, mischievous grin tugging at his mouth.

“It’s Jax’s birthday,” he announces to the camera, too loudly, too proud. And just like that, I remember the day. The last time any of us celebrated anything together.

“I’ve appointed myself as the camera guy,” Nate goes on. “Because I’m considerate like that.”

He starts walking, the camera bouncing as he moves. He bumps straight into Dorian and swings the lens up at him.