Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 266

I wrap my arms around him, the warmth of his bare skin pressing into me, grounding me in the moment. “Why’d you get out of bed?” I ask softly. “I was gonna bring the food to you when you woke up.”

He exhales slowly, a low, deep sound that vibrates against me. “I missed you,” he admits, quiet, almost vulnerable. I lean down, gently angling his head so he meets my gaze. His brown eyes are half-lidded, and I feel the pull of him there.

“You should’ve slept a little longer.”

He shakes his head, a small grimace crossing his face. “I feel like I’m turning into a freaking zombie. I really hate those meds.”

“I know,” I say softly, brushing a thumb over his temple. “But you need them.”

His gaze drifts to my lips. I understand without words. I lean in, and when our lips meet, it’s slow, searching....like tasting someone you’ve missed in ways you didn’t realize you could. His lips press into mine with gentle insistence, warm and soft, a little tentative but desperate in a way that makes my chest ache. I cup the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair, grounding us both.

Afterwards, he turns his head toward the kitchen, eyes lingering on the cake and the food on the stove. “It all smells amazing, I can’t wait to try it.”

Then he frowns, tilting his head slightly. “What’s that?”

I follow his gaze to the two gift bags Adam brought. “From Layla and Addy. Adam dropped them by.”

He squints at me. “Adam was here?”

“Yeah. He dropped by for a bit. Go wait in the living room,” I tell him gently. “I’ll bring the food over.”

“I’ll help,” he offers immediately.

My first instinct is to shut it down....to tell him ‘it’s fine, I’ve got it, go sit, rest, let me take care of you’....but I catch myself before the words slip out. I stop, breathe. Then I nod. “Okay.”

He actually looks surprised. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open like he was fully prepared for the usual argument. But the shock evaporates the second I hand him one single bowl of rice and gesture for him to go.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Wow. Generous.” But he still takes it.

I watch him pad toward the living room, slow and loose-limbed, pausing by the gift bags to peer into both. “They both got you leather jackets,” he informs me. “How lazy and uninspired.”

I huff out a laugh. “Could be worse.”

He straightens, turns back toward me with a glint in his eye. “Can we start with the cake?”

“Don’t try me.”

He laughs and wanders off, and I let myself take a moment just to watch him go. Then I get to work. I plate everything carefully.....more precise than I’d ever admit out loud. I adjust the portions, wipe the rims, make sure the colors look good together. It’s ridiculous how much I want it to be perfect for him.....for me.

But when I reach for the tray, I pause.

Adam’s offer flickers through my mind again, echoing in that annoying calm voice of his. And I can already see the way Xander would react if I told him. Not pushy, not demanding, just that look. Soft and hopeful. The one that always makes me feel like I’m letting him down even when I’m trying my hardest not to.

I’m not ready for that conversation. So I tuck the thought away, pick up the tray and head toward him.

We eat on the couch, knees brushing. Xander’s slow with his food, still half-dazed from sleep, but his brain is apparently working just fine because he says, “You should move out of your apartment.”

I look over at him and he goes on, “You never go back there anyway. You’re basically wasting cash on rent.”

He’s not wrong. I’ve already thought about that, so I nod. “Yeah. I will.”

“And,” he adds, pointing at me with his fork, “...you can keep whatever you like from your place and maybe sell the rest. Addy knows someone who's really good at selling shit online.”

I think it over, swallow another bite. “Everything’s fair game. Apart from anything in my kitchen.”

He hums. “And the TV, we’ll install it in our new bedroom.”

My chest warms at that “our”, the ease of it, the sureness. Then he inhales, almost like he’s preparing himself, and confesses, “When I’m bored, I go through listings. The one we picked out is long gone. Obviously.”

“We’ll find another, when you’re healed up.”

He nods. “Yeah. We kind of rushed the first time. Didn’t really consider a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

He chews, slow and focused, eyes straight ahead. Then he turns toward me, meets my gaze, and says quietly, “Like whether it’s somewhere we’d stay for the long haul. Or if we can picture ourselves moving again. Because if it is for the long haul, then there’s more to think about. In terms of space....and stuff.”

He shrugs, laughs under his breath. Small, tight and nervous. “It’s just a thought. We’ll talk about it when I’m not high on pills.”

He goes back to staring at his food like it’s suddenly the most complicated thing in the world. And I swallow hard.

A while ago...hell, even a few weeks ago, I’d have dodged this whole thing. Shut down, changed the subject, looked away until the moment passed. Even now, there’s a piece of me that wants to retreat. Wants to hide because this part, the future, has always been the part I never let myself imagine.

But the other part of me, the bigger part, the one that always wakes up when my eyes land on him....that part is louder this time.

The part that stalked him for two years without shame.

The part that made me say yes when he asked to try dating even though I was terrified.

The part that took me all the way to Michigan to meet his family.

The part that asked him to move in.

The part that somehow keeps growing and growing because of him.

Something in my brain....some quiet, sleeping door, swings open. And suddenly I can see it. A whole life, not in fragments, not in daydreams. But clear and complete.

It hits me so fast it almost knocks the breath out of me.

I turn to him, heartbeat too loud in my ears. “Are you....” I pause, swallow, try again. “Are you already imagining me having to share you? Cause I need a few years with you to myself.”

His head whips toward me fast. His eyes go wide, like he genuinely doesn’t know if he heard me correctly. Then he blinks, cautious. “Are you, by any unfortunate chance, talking about pets?”

I narrow my eyes at him, slow. “I love you,” I say, “...but there is no universe where I’m competing with a golden retriever. That’s not what I meant.”

A smile breaks over his face like someone flipped on a switch inside him. It's bright, startled and impossibly alive. For a second he doesn’t even look tired. It’s the clearest, purest smile I’ve seen on him since the discharge, and it hits me dead-center. He nods slowly, turns his head like he’s trying to hide how hard it landed, then looks back, and I’m still watching him.

I put that look there. And all I did was say a few honest things. I’m starting to realize that with him, it’s almost always that simple. Just a few honest words. His eyes are still glinting when he asks, tentative but curious, “Was it Heather that did it? It was, wasn't it?”

I shake my head. “She was....surprisingly interesting,” ...and small, so fucking small. “But no.” My voice drops without me meaning it to as my gaze holds his. “It’s you. It’s always gonna be you, Xander.”