Breaking the Habit: The Breaking Series #4

by Leigh, Ember

  Usually, that didn’t matter, but today? With this shitstorm swirling around him? Jail wouldn’t help anything.

  “Take a lap at least,” Levi called out. “These are regular people in here, okay? They don’t want your lenses in their faces. I’m gonna be here, I promise. Just disappear for a hot minute.”

  Maybe reasoning with them was all it took. The photogs walked down the road and turned the corner. Levi hurried to the front door. He pressed his forehead to the door after he knocked, fingering the folded-up papers in his pocket. The proof of his idiocy. The biggest NDA violation in all of history waiting to happen.

  The door swung open. Nikki stared out at him, looking aggressively neutral.

  “Hey,” he croaked.

  “You look like shit,” Nikki said.

  “Yeah. Just got my ass beat.” He frowned. “Is Riley home?”

  Nikki shook her head. “Nope.”

  “You know where she is?”

  Nikki shook her head again. “Not telling you.”

  That’s when it clicked. Nikki knew everything that Riley did. Levi deflated a little. “Nikki, I didn’t cheat on Riley. This is a huge misunderstanding.”

  “All cheaters say that.” She offered a tight smile and started to shut the door in his face.

  “Wait! I need to talk to her. When is she coming home?”

  “I don’t know, Levi. You should leave.”

  “I’m waiting for her.”

  Nikki looked exasperated but didn’t say anything else. When she closed the door again, Levi let it swing shut in his face.

  And now here it was. Time to let the paps to catch him groveling. Levi sighed, easing to sitting on the stoop. He snatched up a few stones nearby and rolled them between his thumb and fingers.

  And he waited.

  And waited.

  The only thing he did while he waited was text Riley. The message history was embarrassing.

  LEVI: Riley we need to talk

  LEVI: Please babe meet up with me anywhere

  LEVI: I’ll wait as long as you need. Don’t talk to me for an entire week. As long as it means you’ll hear me out at some point

  LEVI: Riley please

  LEVI: Where are you???

  He sat there until his ass went numb and the aches and pains of his fight started to set in. His body was stiff. Elbows and knees burning. And after a full hour of sitting there…he had to fucking pee.

  Fat chance that Nikki would let him in to use the bathroom. She was probably sitting inside and live tweeting about what a loser he was. Cast out like a dog. Levi groaned as he tried to stand.

  The photographers were still hanging around, and the three of them hopped to standing when Levi did. He held up his palm.

  “Calm down. I’m just breathing.”

  Shutters clicked.

  He sighed, turning his back to the road, delicately adjusting himself to piss off to the side of the landscaping. He didn’t want to piss on the house out of respect, but if he used the yard like a normal human being, his dong would be in full view of the paps.

  And sure, once upon a time he’d wanted nudes to be leaked. But now? He didn’t want half this attention now that he had it. Maybe that was the first line he should open with when he started groveling to Riley.

  “Ahhhh.” A relieved groan escaped him as a shudder of pleasure coursed through him. He braced himself against the house as he pissed, his left leg suddenly giving out. Some laughter reached him, and plenty of cameras snapped.

  Fuck.

  “This isn’t what it looks like,” he called out over his shoulder. When he was done, he turned around and found three cameras aimed at him.

  “Really?” one of the photographers called out. “Looks like you’re pissing on your ex-girlfriend’s house to us.”

  Anxiety knotted his belly for the hundredth time that day, but at this point, he didn’t have any more energy to fight the misconception. He could see the headline already—MMA Fighter Pisses on Lover’s House—and all the associated shock and outrage.

  But whatever. It only mattered that Riley knew he wasn’t an asshole.

  That was the single priority in life right now.

  Levi groaned as he sat on the cement stoop again. It had been about twenty minutes since he’d texted her last. Time to try again.

  LEVI: Let me come meet you. Public place. I don’t care where it is. I’ll drive to Mars if you ask.

  Levi’s chest tightened when his phone buzzed a moment later.

  RILEY: Lounge 83.

  Levi blinked as he read and reread her lone response. He’d been to Lounge 83 plenty of times before; it was tucked into Hollywood Hills and known for being rag mag bait. The place where celebrities of all letters of the alphabet went to be seen and reported on.

  He didn’t know why she was there. But he was on his way.

  Levi hobbled to his car as fast as he could, his heart in his throat. He got there in less than a half hour, a miracle of LA traffic if he’d ever seen it, and he left his car with the valet. As soon as he stepped out of his car, the photographers in waiting sprang to life. Flashes popped, shutters snapping, questions zipping through the air.

  “You here to celebrate your epic tie?”

  “What about the next fight? When will we see you tie next?”

  Levi ground his teeth against the snark. They were goading him—probably hoping for his temper to flare and then, bam, drama. That’s what had gotten him the time he smashed that photographer’s camera. Levi had fallen for the trap.

  But he wasn’t going to fall for it this time. He pushed past the paps and took the stairs two at a time up to the elegant black doors. The bouncer arched a brow, looking him up and down.

  “I’m an MMA fighter,” Levi explained, and they ushered him in a moment later. At least he’d thought to put on black shorts and a black button-down. To at least try to blend in with the rest of the world. Low, sultry electronica music filled the space. Levi headed straight for the bar, which was set against a mirrored backdrop and lots of well-groomed bartenders.

  Riley stood out to him immediately. Hunched over at the bar. A drink between her hands. Looking as pitiful as he’d ever seen her.

  He eased into the open spot at her side. When she noticed him, she jerked upright. He leaned against the bar, mere inches between them. He didn’t know where to begin.

  “You look fucking awful,” she said, drunken slur in full force.

  “Thanks. I just had the worst fight of my career. But you look amazing as always.”

  “This was a bad idea,” she moaned into her hands.

  “Riley. It’s time to talk to me.”

  “No. There will be no talking,” she spat.

  “Then why did you tell me where you were?”

  She swung to face him, and he caught a whiff of the alcohol coming off her. Her chocolate eyes, normally so clear and decisive, looked murky and unfocused. The black strap of her bra showed on her shoulder as the lacy shirt shifted. She scrunched up her nose and narrowed her eyes, looking like a petulant teen.

  Riley was shitfaced.

  “I didn’t,” she said, swinging to face the mirrored back of the bar again. “You found me.”

  “Riley, you texted me.”

  She scoffed. “I wouldn’t text you. Not after what you did.” And then she tossed back all of whatever was in her glass.

  Levi clenched his jaw as she flagged down the bartender and tried to order another drink.

  “Actually, I’ll close out her tab,” Levi interjected. “We need to leave.”

  “I am not leaving with him,” Riley hissed to the bartender.

  “This is my girlfriend,” Levi said, trepidation making hot steps through his body. This would not end well. He looked like an out-of-control asshole. Face busted, recent stitches. His face screamed domestic abuse.

  A sarcastic laugh erupted from Riley, but for some reason, she didn’t dispute him. She turned in her seat and stood up.

  “So we’
re leaving?” he asked her.

  “Pay!”

  He hurried to extract his credit card from his wallet. He kept an eye on her as she stumbled toward the bathroom. His heart sank. He’d never seen her like this. Not even once, not even close.

  The bartender closed out her tab, and Levi was waiting for her when she came out of the bathroom.

  “God, you’re still here?” she sneered.

  “Yeah, I’m here to take you home. You’re drunk as fuck. Let’s go.”

  “Don’t you want to celebrate?” She got some sort of crazed, sarcastic look on her face. “You know, that awesome tie you pulled off.”

  He ground his teeth. Of all the people to goad him about the tie, he didn’t expect Riley to shove it in his face like that.

  “I’m not drinking tonight. We’re having a talk. Let’s go.”

  “But I thought you needed to go get into some trouble,” she went on, her voice getting more and more patronizing. “You know, to feel like a twenty-something.”

  “Riley.”

  She wobbled, and he caught her, slinging his arm around her shoulder.

  “Let’s go to my car,” he said. “I want to fly under the radar so we can leave without any hassle.”

  “Pffff. Fly under the radar. Funny joke.”

  She might not believe him, but she didn’t have to. She’d see—either now or when she was lucid—that Levi’s goal wasn’t unbridled fame whoring anymore. The only goal was to make it to her house, where she could sleep it off, and then they could have a rational, adult conversation in the morning.

  As soon as they hit the sidewalk outside, Riley started acting weird.

  Really weird.

  “Levi, don’t put your hands on me!” she shouted, twisting away from him. “What about Titi?”

  Levi clenched his jaw. Photogs lined the sidewalk about five feet away. Now he knew what she was doing. What she was gunning for. But it didn’t make any damn sense.

  “Riley,” he said in a low voice.

  “I really am not interested in your very small penis!” she shouted, storming ahead. Levi narrowed his eyes. Low blow, but maybe one he deserved.

  “This way, Ri,” he hissed, grabbing her elbow.

  “I said I don’t want to marry you and have your kids,” she shouted, wriggling free of him again. Cameras were snapping left and right. He had no chance of hiding this.

  And that was probably what she wanted. Drunk out of her mind, trying to exact revenge somehow.

  But he wasn’t going to lose his shit. He wasn’t even going to react. He was going to get her into the car and drive away. Even if she thought acting out was going to injure him, he didn’t want her behavior to make her vulnerable again.

  “Yeah, Levi, where’s Titi?” a pap shouted out. “You two are getting real cozy these days. Moved on already?”

  Levi clenched his fist as he guided Riley to the valet station.

  “He’s such a man whore,” Riley called out. “Can’t get enough pussy.”

  A ripple of laughter crested the paps. Then, “That busted face really brings in the ladies, don’t it, champ? Sorry, should say Mr. Unanimous Draw.”

  Levi rubbed at his face, counting to ten. Riley sneered at him, staggering forward suddenly. Levi jumped to catch her.

  “She seems a little too drunk.” More cameras clicking. “Or is that your style, too?”

  Heat thrummed through his veins, and his fingers itched to get in a punch again. But he wouldn’t react. This was part of the new Levi. The one who was dedicated to Riley. The Levi who had something to prove.

  “Come on, Levi,” Riley taunted, poking at his arm. “This is the shit you live for. Don’t you want it all?” She gestured behind them, at the line of photographers snapping their picture. “Eat it up!”

  “Get in the car,” Levi said in a low voice, guiding her toward the SUV. “I’m not going to make a scene. And I don’t understand why you’re putting yourself in the spotlight right now.”

  “Just trying to help,” she spat as he folded her into the SUV. “Isn’t that how people play in your world? Sell themselves out?”

  “No, Riley. And even if it was, you’re putting yourself out there too, Ms. I Hate The Spotlight.”

  She laughed so bitterly it practically burnt him. “I don’t care anymore. You were right. It’s all fickle bullshit.”

  He shut the door and handed off a hundred-dollar bill to the attendant before sliding into the driver’s seat. Photographers crowded around the car, eager faces, cameras flashing.

  Levi didn’t relax until they were all in the rearview mirror.

  Less than a half mile later, Riley snored in the passenger’s seat.

  Chapter 32

  Riley’s tongue had soldered itself to the roof of her mouth.

  It was the only fact she knew about life as consciousness came to her the next morning. She tried to move her tongue and failed. Everything was parched. Sandpaper. Horrible, dry, cracking bark.

  She groaned and launched an arm toward the night stand. Finding nothing. Definitely not the glass of water she was dying for.

  She cracked open an eye. There it was. Just out of reach. Her whole body protested as she pushed up onto an elbow to reach further. Fingertips brushing the glass.

  As she snagged it, she looked down.

  And there was Levi. Asleep on the floor.

  She gasped so hard, the glass tipped out of her grip and tumbled off the nightstand. Water spilled everywhere—including on Levi’s head. The glass landed right beside his ear. He jolted awake, swearing loudly.

  “I’m sorry,” she rasped, one eye pinched shut. Levi rubbed at his face—delicately—and ran a hand over his cornrows to swipe out the water.

  “Damn,” he said, his voice groggy. “Good morning.”

  “I didn’t mean to do that.” She flopped back onto the bed. She had no idea why he was inside her house, much less sleeping beside her bed. She didn’t remember much beyond showing up at Lounge 83 and ordering two whiskeys to drown her sorrows in. “Why are you on the floor?”

  “Uh, because you refused to let me sleep in the bed,” Levi said, rubbing at an eye. “Or don’t you remember?”

  A wave of nausea crested. She tossed her forearm over her eyes.

  “So you slept next to my bed like a puppy?” She hated that she liked it. That somehow, it made a small difference.

  “Yeah.” Levi sniffed, slowly unfolding himself. She rolled onto her side, noticing that he’d slept on nothing. Not even a sheet. Just used her extra pillow and his dignity to keep him warm. “Wanted to make sure that you were okay. And to talk to you, once you finally stopped being a drunk asshole.”

  She glared at him. “I wasn’t a drunk asshole.”

  “Uh, yes you were.”

  Her head throbbed. “What could I possibly have done that you didn’t already deserve?”

  “Well, you acted like I was putting my hands all over you. Non-consensually.”

  She grunted.

  “And then you accused me of being a man whore, in front of, oh, I don’t know, about thirty celebrity journalists.”

  “They aren’t journalists,” she protested weakly.

  “Then you tried to provoke me into losing my temper,” Levi added. “Also said I had a small penis, which is the most untrue thing you’ve ever said.”

  “Okay. Okay. That’s enough.” She held up a hand so he’d shut up. She had zero memory of any of it.

  “I don’t have to mention you throwing a glass on my head this morning either.”

  She groaned, returning the arm to its place across her face. “You deserved that the most.”

  “No, I didn’t, Riley. And I can explain why, if you ever plan on listening to me.”

  She drew deep breaths, assessing the extent of her budding headache. “I can’t hear anything until Motrin.”

  He held up a hand when she tried to push herself up. “I’ll get it.”

  She watched as he limped out of the bed
room, his black button-down rumpled. Even through the thick haze of her hangover, she felt bad for him. The guy had gotten his ass beaten the night before, and still, he slept on the hard floor.

  Don’t feel sorry for him. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

  And she needed to get strong. Because as soon as he came back into this bedroom, he’d probably have a million excuses about why he would be different going forward. How it was a one-time slip. How she was the only one for him, and he was sorry, so sorry.

  She couldn’t let biceps or slow kisses or sleeping on the floor sway her rationality. They were all tried and true tactics of cheaters.

  Riley sat up, noticing that she had her favorite sleep shirt on. Levi’s shirt. She rubbed her face, aches and pains from her bender the night before catching up to her. Levi came back into the bedroom a moment later, and she could see the full scope of his face.

  His hair was still pulled back into cornrows—undoing them was a job she’d claimed since his last match—and his entire right eye socket was a garish, muddled black and brown. His forehead had at least five stitches—tiny but visible—and his cheekbones had scratches, like from a cat.

  “Did I do all that to your face?” she asked.

  “Funny, Riley.” He handed the glass of water to her and then dropped two pills into her hands. She choked them down and gulped back the entire glass of water.

  “You want more?” he asked. She nodded.

  He limped out of the bedroom again, not complaining, not even sighing. When he came back, he passed her the glass again and then pulled something out of his pocket.

  “What’s that?” she asked, eyeing the multi-page, tri-folded mess in his hands. “A love note?”

  “Better.” His gaze fell to the bed. “Can I sit next to you?”

  She hugged her knees to her chest and nodded. He eased onto the bed, grimacing as his knees bent. She rested her chin against the top of her knees, willing the throbbing in her head to disappear.

  “I’m going to show you something, Ri,” he said his eyes fastened to the papers in his hands. “I’m not supposed to, but I’m going to anyway. You need to keep it quiet for right now.” He started to hand them over, then he paused. “Are you too hungover to read?”