Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 33

I nod toward the bike before Trent even opens his mouth. " That the real thing or just a very well dressed imposter?"

He practically springs. “Oh, no... Definitely the real deal! One of our most prized collectibles. Original frame, matching numbers. Top of its class back then. They called it the ‘world’s fastest production motorcycle’... speeds up to—”

“I didn’t ask for her blood type,” I cut in, tone mild but flat. He falters. I hold his gaze, watch his mouth twitch into a nervous smile. “Just tell me if she rides clean.”

He clears his throat. “Y-yeah. She does. Absolutely. Full restoration, pristine engine, not a speck out of place.”

“Good.” I glance back at the bike, thumb brushing over Adam’s black card. “Let’s make my day a little more irresponsible.”

Truth is, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. This wasn’t part of the plan. I was supposed to get Layla a few dresses and maybe a croissant. Instead, I’m about to drop a huge amount on a bike with someone else’s card just because I feel like I’m losing control of everything else in my life.

Still, the engine. The shape.... The escape.

I run my hand down the throttle and close my eyes.

Yeah. This might be the most relaxing thing I’ve done all day.

“Alright, Trent.” I toss the card at him like I’m flicking away a bad idea. “Let’s see if your overpriced little show pony wants to come home with me.”

He fumbles the card, blinking like I just insulted his mom. “Oh, Great! I'll get right to it. And it’s actually Josh. ”

" Whatever you say, Trent. "

His lips part like he's about to say something but instead he just smiles and nods, I turn, walk toward the espresso machine in the corner and pour myself a shot. Bitter, hot.. slightly better than the water.

A while later, I’m hunched over the counter, signing my name. The pen glides across the glossy paper, my mind already half on the ride home....wind in my face, engine rumbling beneath me, something resembling peace.

Then the phone buzzes.

Crest.

I glance at the screen, shake my head. Of course it’s him. Of course he waited until I was mid-paperwork to blow up my phone. I ignore the first ring. Let the second go too. He doesn’t quit. Third time, I sigh and slide my thumb across the screen.

He's mad I let Olivia approach Layla, I saw that coming.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling slow. Eventually, he says...

“You know what I pay you for. To keep her safe, from everything. Not just creeps on the street. All of it.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. He’s not wrong.

“She’s back at the shop,” he adds, voice flattening with that boss-tone he slips into when he wants something done. “I want eyes on her. She’s not supposed to know you’re watching.”

My jaw ticks. Damn it. I was hoping to avoid that place, at least for a few days. Thought some distance would do me good, give me a minute to breathe, to stop thinking about—

But this is the job. And Adam... Adam’s been through enough of his own hell. Doesn’t say it, doesn’t show it, but I see the cracks. Someone’s gotta have his six—even if he’s a controlling asshole about it.

So I just say, “Yeah. I know the drill.”

I lower the phone and stare at the signed forms beneath my hands, jaw locked tight. Trent’s still hovering, polite smile twitching at the corners.

I slap a palm over the paperwork. “You close late?”

“Uh—eight,” he says quickly.

“Good.” I nod toward the bike. “I’ll be back for her.”

He looks confused for a second. Then excited. “Sure thing. "

The sunlight outside is sharp, too bright for my mood. As I step out, leather jacket slung over my shoulder, I can already feel the shift in my chest. Back to work. Back to the shadows. Back to him.

********

I’ve been parked here for over two hours. Engine off. AC low. Adam’s car is nice, all slick leather and touchscreen everything , but even luxury starts to feel like a cage when you’ve been sitting still too long. The windows are tinted, so no one can see in, not unless they’re trying.

I lean back, eyes on the entrance of the tattoo shop. I’m not going in there. I told myself that when I parked. I’m just here to watch, keep Layla safe. Nothing more. Nothing personal.

I pop the top on my flask, take a long sip of water like it might flush the edge off the need clawing up my throat. The same edge I felt when I was looking at that building this morning. Like my body remembers things I’d rather forget.

I grip the steering wheel, flex my fingers, force my attention back to the sidewalk. Stay sharp. Stay detached.

The door opens sometime around one. Layla walks out with Addy and Xander on either side of her. I straighten instinctively, eyes narrowing.

She looks... better. Not exactly chipper, but her shoulders aren’t curled in like they were earlier. She's listening to Addy talk, nodding, and I catch the ghost of a smile tug at her mouth.

But it’s not her that keeps my gaze locked.

Xander’s in a loose graphic t-shirt, faded jeans, sunglasses pushing his hair back. He’s laughing at something Addy says, that low, easy kind of laugh that I can't even hear from here yet still hits me in the ribs. Addy shifts to his side and bumps his hip with hers, teasing, and he throws his arm around her neck in retaliation, dragging her close and ruffling her hair like they’ve done this a hundred times. Like it’s nothing.

And it is. Addy’s harmless. Layla’s harmless. Hell, even he’s probably harmless.... if I didn’t keep projecting my bullshit onto him.

Still, it twists. The way they look at him, like he’s safe. Like he belongs. I dig my nails into my palm, hard.

I shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t even be thinking about this. But watching him now, loose-limbed and shining in the sun, laughing with people who matter to him...

I feel like something’s missing inside me. Something jagged and shameful.

Pathetic.

I scoff under my breath, shove a hand through my hair, and force my eyes away. I’m not giving in. He can laugh and play all he wants.

I’m done with this. With him. With the pull, the ache, the way his voice loops in my head when I’m trying to sleep and the way my stomach knots when he so much as smiles at someone else. It’s ridiculous.... Fucking dangerous. I’ve burned bridges for less. Walked away from entire cities without looking back.

Xander Devereaux isn’t special. He’s just a phase, one I should’ve ripped out at the root the second it started. I’m done. I have to be. Because if I’m not, I’m gonna end up doing something reckless. Again. And that’s a line I swore I’d never cross twice.

Last time I did, I lost more than I care to remember....and I still wake up choking on it.