Page 17 of Breaking the Habit

Gage snorted, leaning to the side to see the huge flat-screen TV. He’d gotten a tiny laugh out of him. That was good, for now.

“I gotta go to the gym, bro.” Levi hopped from side to side as he made his way to the kitchen, where his packed bag awaited him. Street clothes, fight clothes, and a shit ton of first aid. “If you change your mind, you call Tammy, okay?”

Tammy was the home health nurse. She’d been coming over to help out since they moved to LA. Gage liked her all right but resented needing her help in a way that he never had with his nurse in Chicago. The move had to be hitting him hard. On his down days, Levi thought that maybe the move wasn’t worth it. Maybe he should have stayed back in Chicago, found some lesser trainer on the West Loop, and gotten a full-time job doing internet installation or some shit to make ends meet.

Maybe following his dreams wasn’t worth the toll it took on Gage.

It was times like these that his heart crumbled with wanting his mom and dad. Even for a day, to look at the state of things and tell him it was going to be okay. If he could just get some damn advice.

Levi ruffled Gage’s hair before he let himself out of the apartment. Tammy would be on her way soon anyway to help Gage with dinner and a shower before bed. Gage made himself damn useful, though—that was the Swain in him. Too proud to accept much help, even when he’d become wheelchair bound at the ripe old age of ten.

The trip to Holt Body Fitness went slower than normal, or maybe he was so amped up that time slowed to a crawl. He was still getting used to LA traffic after a few months living here. He might never adjust. Seriously, so much time in traffic. He’d thought Chicago was bad, especially with the parking tickets, but this shit? His first purchase, once he was a financially stable billionaire, would be a helicopter.

The thought made him laugh out loud. A passenger in a nearby car turned to look as he laughed, so Levi amped it up. He loved attention—there was no denying it. As he trudged through traffic, he played games with the passing cars. With some people, he waved until they finally noticed him, which led to some awkward wait times. With others, he struck up a conversation—always about the fact that he was about to whoop some guy’s ass in an MMA fight. A few people promised to tune in. One guy had actually heard of his fight card already.

And that is marketing, folks.Levi smiled to himself as he eased into the parking lot of Holt Body Fitness. He’d conquer Los Angeles one traffic jam at a time.

Once he swept into Holt, things started getting real. He and Travis and Lex met for a briefing in the back gym. Protocol was that Levi didn’t fight the day before or the day of a fight, to reserve all his energy for the big event. Melanie came by to tug his hair into tight cornrows—another fight protocol—and once his scalp smarted from the tight braids, Levi took to some light stretches in his HOLT track suit.

Riley came sauntering in, fishnets tights under short denim shorts, those black combat boots back out to play. His gut twisted—half excitement, half dread.

He wanted to see her. A little too much.

But she’d made it damn clear to him the other night that she didn’t want an ounce of what he had to offer. Unless it was money.

“Wow.” She cocked a hip, a genuine smile gracing those plump lips. “Never thought I’d catch you doing yoga.”

He sent her his best dazzling grin as he held a warrior pose. “What’s this one called?”

“Warrior B.”

“Wrong. It’s Warrior L.” He winked. “Get it? L for Levi.”

“Man, you start with the jokes quick,” Riley mused, snapping a picture.

Travis and Lex came back, greeting Riley with quick hugs. “We all set to go?”

“What’s going on?” Levi asked, feigning ignorance. “Some sort of big event today?”

Travis hefted with a laugh. “Good one.”

“Just the ass kicking of Myrtle’s life,” Lex said, squeezing the tops of Levi’s shoulders. Myrtle was the “affectionate” nickname for Levi’s opponent today, Michael Murtson. With how trained Levi was—and how ready he was to pummel anything in his path—this would be an easy win.

The four of them piled into the official Holtmobile, as Levi liked to call it. A celebrity-grade, brand new SUV, shiny black with blacked out rims. Every time Levi rode in it, always in the backseat, he felt like a star trying to escape the paparazzi.

And if his career took off like he hoped, that reality might not be too far out.

“So how many more faces do I have to break until I get my first multimillion-dollar sponsor?” Levi asked, tugging forward the hood of his HOLT hoodie. It helped block Riley at his side. If she wanted him to back the fuck off her, then he needed to reiterate this to himself every way possible.

It would be hard, but he could do it. He wasn’t a savage.

Travis snorted as he headed onto the freeway. Rap music hummed from the speakers. Travis knew that’s what pumped him up most on fight days, even though it wasn’t his favorite music. It was shit like this that made Travis the best trainer in the world. The little details.

“At least fifteen,” Travis said.

“Nah, that’s too many.” Levi inspected his knuckles, trying to visualize the numbers on the check that would come from this eventual sponsorship. How many zeroes there might be. It was the only way to really get there. “I’m thinking…just a few more.”

“Good luck, buddy. If anyone can get there, it’s you.” Travis’s voice didn’t hold any sarcasm. He really did believe in him.

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