Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 97

Adam sits, rolling up his shirt sleeve with swift movements, like he’s done it a hundred times. He says it so casually it almost sounds like nothing...

“I’m not exactly sure what I want. Just… something Layla will love. Something that shows her how much I love her.”

And for a second, I just watch him. The way he says it. No hesitation, no shift in tone, no performance. Just the truth, laid out in a voice that never seems to crack.

It makes me think of her Layla and how every guy before him had been a fucking disaster.

I know the two of them are doing couple’s therapy. Layla mentioned like it wasn’t a big deal, but I caught the way she said it...the way she looked almost proud. I can’t shake the suspicion that it’s more for her than him, a safety net she needs after everything she’s been through. Still, Adam goes with her, no hesitation. And somehow that’s what gets me. It’s not performative, not some grand gesture, it’s quiet commitment, the kind that doesn’t need an audience. It’s endearing in a way that makes me think maybe he’s exactly what she’s always needed.

“You must really love her,” I say before I can stop myself.

Adam doesn’t even blink. “She’s everything to me.”

It’s sweet, too damn sweet. The kind of thing I wish I’ll get someday, someone looking at me like that, saying that. And like clockwork, Jax’s face flashes in my mind. The sharp lines, the dangerous softness he only ever lets slip when he thinks I’m not watching. I shove it aside, because this isn’t the time. Not with Adam Crest sitting in my chair.

I clear my throat, flip my pencil between my fingers. “Alright then. If we’re doing this, we’ve got to narrow it down. You want something small and discreet? Or you leaning toward something bold?”

“Small,” he says instantly. “Simple and.. intimate.”

I nod, jotting the word small down on the paper. “Good. Placement matters. Somewhere she’ll see it? Or something just for you to know is there?”

He considers that, jaw tight. “ Just for her to see.”

“Alright.” My pencil scratches against the page. “Symbols, then. What ties you to her? Can you give me anything meaningful you always connect with her?”

There’s silence. Then… “I call her flower.”

I lift my head at that. I’ve heard him call her that before. Still, it hits different now, hearing it here, in this context. It’s sweet and genuine. I nod and jot it down. “That works. Any particular one, or…?”

He leans back slightly, thoughtful. “I send her roses all the time.”

A smile tugs at my mouth, and I scribble a quick sketch of a rose. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. Addy jokes about it every other day. Is that just because they’re easy, or do they actually mean something to you?”

“They do,” Adam says, his voice quieter now. “I told her they remind me of her.”

He says it without blinking, like it’s carved into him already, no ink needed. And I feel the weight of it, more than I should, because Layla is my best friend and she deserves to be adored like this, but it also twists something sharp inside me.

My chest feels too full, my hands too tight around the lead. Because this isn’t just about ink. It’s about the fact that Adam is talking about her the way I want someone to talk about me, and I can’t stop Jax’s face from slipping back into my mind no matter how hard I try.

I glance up, forcing a smile to cut through it. “Alright. Let’s see what we can design without turning you into a Hallmark card.”

The pencil glides across the page, the start of a petal forming under my hand. I’m in that zone where lines stop being lines and start becoming something, when Adam clears his throat. Low, almost hesitant.

I glance up at him. “What? You got another idea? Anything you wanna add?”

He almost smiles, but it fades quick. “No. I just… I know it’s kind of cliché.” He pauses, like he’s testing the words before they come out. “But I was actually thinking of getting her name. Maybe you can find a way to incorporate everything else around that.”

I freeze for a beat, the pencil hovering midair. That’s not small, that’s not casual. That’s permanent in a way most people never dare. I set the pencil down slowly, leaning back a little in my chair. “Her name, huh?” My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. “That’s a serious choice. You sure about that?”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate. His gaze stays steady on mine. “I am. There’s no one else for me. I’d like her name on my heart.”

Something tugs at me then, sharp and bittersweet. The conviction in his voice. The absolute certainty, it’s rare to see someone that sure. Rare to hear someone mean it without a shadow of doubt.

I nod slowly, pick the pencil back up, but my hand feels even heavier now. “Okay.” I tap the page, trying to sound casual even though it hits deeper than I want it to. “We’ll make it work. I'll try and design something that looks as big as you feel about her.”

Inside, though, I can’t help thinking how wild it is, how he’s ready to wear her into his skin forever. And how badly, in some hidden corner of myself, I want to know what it feels like to be loved with that same kind of certainty.

The first lines come easy. I sketch a heart-shaped lock, but instead of going the obvious route, I fuse it into a rose. The petals curve into the ridges of an old skeleton key, the stem elongating into the shaft. It’s both a key and a rose, and in the middle of the bloom, I carve Layla’s name in a way that almost makes it look like part of the design rather than slapped on. Romantic but not cheesy.