by Ali Parker
But maybe that was the best way to cope with this.
I sighed. “On second thought, can we go through a drive-thru and pick up some shitty food so I can drown my sorrows in grease and fries?”
“Absolutely,” Janie said. I could feel relief seep through her as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “You got it. Whatever you want. Name your poison.”
“Somewhere with burgers and fries. And milkshakes. And onion rings.”
“Damn, girl. He did a number on you, didn’t he?”
I nodded three times before I fell apart and descended into more sobs.
“Oh God,” Janie breathed. “I’m sorry, Piper. I didn’t mean to make you upset. I’m such a fucking idiot. What can I do? Tell me what to do.”
“Just drive and get me some fucking onion rings,” I said, dragging the back of my hand under my nose. I tried to smile at her, but based on her wince, I assumed it looked more like a grimace.
Janie took us through a drive-thru close to the apartment, and as we waited at the pickup window, she reached over and put her hand on my knee. “If you want to talk, we can talk. If you want to watch a movie, we can do that too. Whatever you need. Got it?”
I nodded.
“But can you tell me one thing?”
I nodded again.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he? These are tears because you were sad to leave him, not because of something else?”
I gazed out the windshield. Images of Levi flashed in my mind’s eye.
Levi playing the piano and giving voice to his beautiful music. Levi smiling at me across the table the first time I made him a homecooked meal. Levi running his hands up the inside of my thighs. Levi laughing.
“He didn’t hurt me,” I said softly.
“Okay,” Janie said slowly as if she was fishing for more information.
I took a deep breath and blew out slowly. “He loves me.”
“Damn.”
“And I love him.”
“Fuck,” Janie said.
“Tell me about it.”
Janie stared out the windshield too. “You know, Piper, money doesn’t buy happiness.”
“Don’t.”
“But you know what does?”
I eyed her. “What?”
She smirked at me. “Getting fucked senseless by a rock star who loves the shit out of you. That’s what.”
For the first time since leaving Levi, I laughed.
CHAPTER 25
LEVI
My brother lived in a two-story penthouse condo in downtown LA. I’d purchased it for him about six years ago, shortly after he moved to LA. He’d been grateful, and I’d been happy to share my wealth.
But I hadn’t been over in years.
Our relationship had been strained for some time now, and I knew it was my fault. I had spent a long time denying it, a long time telling myself he was the problem because he was the one who wouldn’t leave me alone.
Having Piper in my life for one month had sure changed how I felt about a lot of things, Jake being one of them.
So here I was, in the wake of her departure, standing at my little brother’s front door, trying to gather the nerve to knock.
We hadn’t spoken since the night of my last show. The night I went into the hospital and had my stomach pumped. This happened every time shit got bad. Jake backed off. I went dark. And we didn’t speak for weeks or months.
When we did, it was always Jake telling me to clean up my act and me sipping a beer defiantly. Or something stronger.
This time was going to be different.
I cleared my throat and knocked.
About twenty seconds passed before the door swung open. Jake blinked at me, and then his brows drew together. “Levi?”
“In the flesh.”
He stuck his head out the door and looked both ways down the hallway. “You’re alone.”
“Yep.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s this about?”
“Can I come in?”
“Why?”
Jesus. I hadn’t realized I’d given him so many reasons to distrust me. “I want to talk.”
“About?”
“For fuck sakes, Jake. Just let me in, will you? I’m not going to steal any of your shit for drug money. I have plenty of that to go around. I just want to talk.”
He eyed me suspiciously as he opened the door and stepped back for me to come inside. It smelled like lemon cleaner and leather in his place, like always. He kept an immaculate home, maybe to make up for the mess of a house we had been raised in, and he had a slight cleaning obsession. I supposed we all have our crutches. Mine was the alcohol and cocaine and his was compulsive cleaning.
We walked past the kitchen and emerged in his open-concept living and dining area. The south wall was all windows, opening onto a wraparound stone patio outside, complete with a jacuzzi, in-ground pool, and lavish sitting area.
“Can I get you something?” Jake asked.
“What? Like a line?”
Jake frowned.
I laughed. “I’m just fucking with you, little brother. But I’ll take a water.”
“Water?”
“Yep,” I said, sliding my hands in my pockets. “Water.”
Jake went to the kitchen and poured us each a glass of iced water. When he returned, we took our seats on his brown leather sofa. The smell of lemon was three times stronger in here. I leaned back to get comfortable and sipped at my drink, letting my brother stew in his confusion for a few more enjoyable moments.
I’d had a rough morning.
After Piper left, I felt sorry for myself in my studio for a good three hours, and I stared at my fucking mini-fridge, craving the elixir inside, doing everything in my power not to open it.
When I did open it, I pulled out all the liquor and poured it down the kitchen sink.
That was step one.
This was step two.
Jake leaned forward. “Okay. I can’t take it. Just spit it out. Why are you here, man?”
I set my water down. “I need your help.”
“With what?”
“I need you to take me here,” I said, reaching into the front pocket of my jacket and pulling out a brochure. I handed it to my brother.
He stared down at the brochure in his hands.
It was one of the ones Doctor Hennie had given me two weeks ago. It was a private treatment facility out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rolling hills, complete with gym, group therapy, one-on-one therapy, sobriety events, and a swimming pool for swimming laps and soaking up the sunshine.
I swallowed. “And I need you to take me there now. Before I change my mind.”
Jake’s eyes slid from the brochure in his hands up to me. “Let’s go.”
“Just like that?”
Jake was already on his feet. He read the address aloud from the front page of the brochure while he nodded to himself. “Yep. Right now. Come on. I’ll drive.”
Nerves ate away at my stomach, but I followed my little brother to the front door. He locked up behind us, and we went to his black Range Rover parked in his driveway. We climbed in, and he started it up. It took a grand total of about three minutes for us to hit the road after I showed him the brochure.
We drove in silence for at least twenty minutes.
Jake was the one to break it. “Is this because of the girl?”
“Stop calling her that. Her name is Piper.”
Jake rolled his shoulders. “You’re right. Sorry. Is this because of Piper?”
“Yes. Because of her. But not for her.”
“What do you mean?”
I’d done a lot of soul searching over the last couple of weeks. Piper was the catalyst of change for me. But at the end of the day, I was doing this for myself. There was a very good chance at the end of the year that I was going to experience real heartbreak that would make this current grief feel like a walk in the park.
She might pick someone else.
&n
bsp; And if I wasn’t clean by then, I would completely fall apart.
I needed to get my shit together before that, and that was exactly what I told my brother as we passed the sign that marked our arrival at the treatment center.
“Damn, man,” Jake breathed, palming the steering wheel as we turned into the parking lot. It was lined in palm trees and low shrubs boasting pretty pink and white flowers. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Is there some part of you that also wants to be sober in case she does pick you?”
I smiled and picked at a loose thread on my jeans. “Sure. It’s a nice thought. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”
“I don’t think you’d be getting ahead of yourself. I know I wasn’t around much this month, but I saw how she looked at you. She cares about you, man. She went to bat for you. She was there.”
I nodded. “She was.”
“Does she know you’re doing this?”
“No.”
Jake turned into a parking space and put the brake on. We both sat quietly. Jake took his seatbelt off. “Let’s go inside.”
I was glad he was there with me. I doubted I’d have the nerve it took to walk myself inside and sign myself in. My brother got out of the vehicle, and I followed. We met at the hood of the SUV, and he gave me a smile I hadn’t seen on his face in a long time before throwing an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll come visit whenever I’m allowed.”
“You’d better. I’m going to need someone to keep me posted on everything going on in the outside world.”
Our steps were in sync as we walked toward the building. It was peach-colored stucco and reminded me of those Stepford places in Hollywood Hills.
It will do, I thought. It was about the result, not the accommodations.
Jake chuckled and shook my shoulders. “Fuck, man. This is happening. You’re all in? No backing out? No pulling the rug out from under me?”
“I’m all in.”
My brother stopped and turned toward me. His hand was still on my shoulder. “I’m glad to have my brother back.”
I put a hand on his forearm. “I never went anywhere. I just took a detour. But I’m on track now. Okay? Just bear with me a little while.”
Jake beamed. “You can do this. If anyone can, it’s you.”
And for a brief moment, as I looked into my little brother’s eyes, I forgot all about Piper and my heartache, and I reveled in the glory of having a little brother who was proud of me for the first time in years.
“Thanks, Jake.”
He turned toward the doors. “Let’s do this thing.”
I was ready.
Whatever came next, I was ready.
* * *
The End.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ali Parker is a full-time contemporary and new adult romance writer with more than a hundred and twenty books behind her. She loves coffee, watching a great movie and hanging out with her hubs. By hanging out, she means making out. Hanging out is for those little creepy elves at Christmas. No tight green stockings for her.
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She’s an entrepreneur at heart and loves coming up with more ideas than any one person should be allowed to access. She lives in Texas with her hubs and three kiddos and looks forward to traveling the world in a few years. Writing under eleven pen names keeps her busy and allows her to explore all genres and types of writing.
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Levi: The Casanova Club #9
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Copyright © 2019 by Ali Parker
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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The novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.
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First Edition.
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Editor: Eric Martinez
Cover Designer: Hang Le from Designs by Hang Le https://www.facebook.com/designsbyhangle/
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Contents
Find Ali Parker
Description
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
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About the Author
Copyright
