Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 99

I finish up faster than I thought I would, the lines clean, the ink settling smooth. Adam didn’t even flinch once. No jaw clench, no sharp inhale. Nothing.

I glance at the scars again as I wipe down the stencil remnants. Maybe that’s why, pain tolerance drilled into him somewhere between whatever life he lived and whatever it cost him. He’s the kind of man who grew up surrounded by wealth, the kind who should’ve lived easy, sheltered. But the marks on him tell a different story entirely.

I set the machine aside, peel off my gloves. “Zig said you already paid,” I tell him, nodding toward the full-length mirror across the shop. “You can go have a look.”

He crosses the room, bare chest catching the light, and studies himself in the glass. His lips part slightly as if he’s about to touch it, fingers twitching, but he stops short. Then he turns to me. “You think she’ll like it?”

It’s not cocky, not rhetorical. It’s a genuine question, naked in a way I don’t expect from him. I meet his eyes and nod once. “I know she will.”

A small smile breaks across his face, subtle but real. He turns back, drinking in the design again, while I move back to my station. I busy myself with cleaning...wiping surfaces, wrapping the machine, clearing the tray. It’s mechanical, routine, but I can feel his presence behind me like static.

By the time I glance back, he’s pulling on his shirt, sliding into his jacket. But then he just stands there. Watching me. His gaze has weight to it, sharp and steady, unnerving in the way it pins me down.

I stop, turn fully to him. “Something else?”

He exhales, slow. “Jax is…complex.”

The words make me still. He steps closer, not invading, but enough that I can’t ignore him.

“Even in the eight years I’ve known him,” he continues, “I don’t really know much about him. He keeps it that way. But...” his jaw works, thoughtful “...I believe he’s a good person at his core. I’ve seen enough to know that.”

I don’t say anything. Just wait.

“He likes keeping to himself. So when I heard you two were dating…” his mouth twitches like he’s half-smiling, half-grimacing, “…naturally, I was shocked.”

I let out a quiet laugh through my nose. Can’t blame him.

“But,” Adam goes on, voice dropping softer, steadier, “I consider him my friend. Only friend, actually. And he’s been there for me in ways even he doesn’t realize.”

Something twists in my chest at that. He studies me for another beat, then says, “I don’t know your relationship dynamic. But I’m glad he has someone now.” His gaze sharpens, pinning me like he’s testing the weight of his words. “Do me a favor, Xander. Just…be there. Jax doesn’t let anyone be there for him. I’d feel at peace knowing you are. Not that he needs protecting, but we all need someone.”

It takes me a second to answer because the request hits deeper than I expect. It’s not casual, it carries weight, like Adam’s laying down something sacred between us. I can see he cares, that this isn’t just about friendship but something bigger, something protective. And for a moment, it almost feels like he’s trusting me with part of Jax. I nod eventually, my voice low but determined. “I will be.”

He holds my eyes for a moment longer, then finally moves, turning toward the door....and leaves without another word.

The studio feels heavier once he’s gone, like he took all the air with him.

But my head’s not in the shop anymore, it’s on Jax. Has been since the moment Adam said his name, heavy with meaning I couldn’t untangle. I check the time and it's still early. My phone’s in my hand before I realize it, thumb hovering over Jax’s contact. I could call, ask if he wants to hang out anyway. We cancelled, sure, but...God, I want to hear his voice.

I set the phone back down. And decide to screw that. I know where he lives, and last we talked, he said he was home.

So I decide.

I grab my backpack, flick the lights off and lock the door behind me. Outside, the night air is cool, biting just enough to clear the fog in my head. A cab pulls up and I slide in, rattling off Jax’s address like I’ve been saying it my whole life.

And then it’s just me and Adam’s words replaying like a broken record. Be there for him... Jax doesn’t let anyone be there for him.

My chest tightens. The cab weaves through streets, headlights streaking against glass, and all I can think about is him.

The guy who walked into my orbit asking for nothing but sex. Sharp edges, walls high as towers, that kind of darkness people run from. And yet somehow here I am, chasing it, craving him and wanting more.

And the crazy part is even though we’re together now, even though he’s kissed me breathless and looked at me like he wasn’t supposed to, we haven’t actually crossed that line. No sex yet. But it doesn’t feel like anything’s missing. If anything, it feels like waiting makes it sharper. Like we’re circling something inevitable, both terrified and tethered to it.

The cab slows, turning down his street. My pulse trips, hard and unsteady. When it stops, I pay the driver without looking and shove the change into my pocket. The door shuts behind me, the sound too loud in the stillness, and I tip my head back.

His building looms overhead, tall and unyielding, windows lit in scattered patterns. My throat works as I stare at it.

God, I hope he’s home.

Because the truth is, I miss him desperately. The kind of longing that gnaws at me, restless, clawing under my skin. Like I’ve been walking around all day with half my chest hollowed out, and he’s the only one who can fill it.

I square my shoulders, drag in a breath, and head for the entrance.