Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 260

The elevator doors slide open and I step into the hallway with a bag of groceries cutting into my fingers. Mostly fruit and a few of Xander’s favorite snacks. I unlock the door, step inside, and the apartment greets me with its usual quiet, but not the kind of quiet that tells me he’s in bed.

There’s a sound, something out of place. A dull click, then a shuffle. Fabric brushing against something. Not the TV, not the heater....not him sleeping.

And my stomach drops.

“Goddammit,” I mutter under my breath, already moving.

I abandon the groceries on the kitchen counter, the apples rolling in their bag, and follow the sound down the hall. My pulse is sharp, my stride faster with every step until I turn the corner into the laundry nook

And there he is...shirtless. Bare skin catching the light like he’s made of something warm and golden and impossible to stay mad at. He’s wearing only those soft cotton pajama pants that hang low on his hips, and he’s bent slightly as he loads clothes into the washer like he didn’t just spend days fighting pain so bad it made him shake.

He glances over when he hears me. Smiles bright and beautiful. About to say something like “Oh, you’re back..”

But then he sees my face and the smile fades instantly. “I was just...”

I don’t let him finish. I cross the space in two long strides, gently but firmly taking the shirt out of his hand.

“The hell are you doing out of bed?” My voice comes out lower, rougher than I intend. He exhales, long and put-upon, like I’m the unreasonable one.

“Jax, you can’t expect me to stay in bed all day. I’m already starting to lose my mind. And the doctor said I could move around if I felt up to it.” His eyes spark with stubborn heat. “And I’m definitely feeling up to it.”

I ignore that and crouch a little, start loading the stupid washer myself because I know he’ll overdo it. “I’ll be the judge of when you’re...” I mimic him, lifting my brows, “feeling up to it.”

He rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of his skull. “Don’t start,” he warns playfully.

“Oh, I’ll start,” I shoot back, shutting the washer door with a quiet click. “Keep this up and I’m going to have to tie you down to the bed.”

His mouth slowly curves, wicked and entirely too pleased.

“Promises, promises.”

“Xander.” I point toward the bedroom, giving him the look, but he shakes his head. “It’s bad enough I can’t even go back to the gym,” he mutters. “ I’m already picturing the tragic physical setback this'll cost me. I might never emotionally recover.” He slumps dramatically, sulking like a kid who just found out the ice cream truck had skipped his street. I scoff despite myself. And then I step closer, close enough to smell his skin, to feel the warmth radiating off him.

Close enough to remember exactly why I worry this much.

My hand lifts almost on instinct, tracing the line of his abdomen. Still so sculpted and defined, even after everything. His body hasn’t lost the shape I know by heart. All those ridges and planes, firm under my palm, familiar in a way that settles something deep in me.

Then I reach there, the fading scar. Thin, pale, a still-healing reminder of everything I almost lost. My hand hesitates, my fingers hover. My pulse kicks hard and for a second, I almost pull away like touching it might hurt him.

But I don’t.

I steady myself....breathe. And then I brush one finger over it. Featherlight. When I lift my gaze, Xander’s already watching me closely. Like he can feel every thought in my chest before it forms.

He takes my hand, then my other one. Links our fingers together on our sides, pulling me in until our foreheads are nearly touching.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs, not the first time. Not even close. But he says it like maybe this time he hopes I’ll actually let it in.

Then he smiles a slow, coaxing, heart-twisting smile and leans in. He kisses my cheek first, then trails his lips along my jaw, slow enough to undo me one breath at a time. When he reaches my ear, he whispers....

“Happy birthday.”

I blink. My brows pull together. “What?”

He pulls back just enough to see my face, and I know he sees the confusion, the way the words don’t click at first.

Because.... I genuinely forgot.

I always forget, I stopped counting years ago. Sometime after that day at Joe’s place birthdays stopped feeling like anything worth noting. They just faded, slipped out of my life. And now suddenly he’s looking at me like this day matters.

He brushes his thumb over my knuckles, gently. “I got you a present,” he says, eyes bright like he’s been waiting for this moment.

I clear my throat, still thrown, still trying to make my brain adjust to the fact that today apparently means something.

“What present?” I ask, searching his face. “And don’t tell me you actually went out to buy something because....”

“Relax.” he cuts in smoothly, “I didn’t go anywhere. Layla and Addy brought it over.”

Before I can respond, he gently tugs me toward the bedroom. I follow, helpless to do anything else. When we get there, he immediately starts bending down like he’s planning to dive headfirst under the bed.

I catch a handful of his hair and tug him back up.

“Seriously?” I mutter. He sighs like I’m being difficult.

I point to the bed. “Sit. I’ll get it.”

He obeys, but with that put-upon little huff that says he thinks I’m ridiculous. I kneel, glance under the bed, and frown at the large wrapped box shoved all the way to the back. It’s bigger than I expected. I drag it out, set it beside him on the bed.

“It was really hard deciding what to get you,” he admits. “Been racking my brain over it for weeks.”

I blink at him, then look at the box again. Suspicion prickles up my spine.

“Why do I feel like it’s gonna be something weird?”

He laughs, the sound vibrating through my ribs in a way I swear is unfair. Then he takes a breath and flashes me a wicked grin. “Curse your good instincts!” he says. “But at least I wrapped it. That shows effort.” I shake my head, lips twitching. Then I reach for the wrapping paper, tearing it slowly, Xander’s gaze locked on me like he’s watching the most suspenseful scene of his life.