Page 53 of Breaking the Habit

In the training camp, Levi dropped off his duffel bag and shed his zip-up while Travis headed for the punching bags lining the far wall. Levi strutted over to him, trying to conjure even an ounce of wanting to punch them.

Travis stared at him so hard, Levi thought he’d wilt.

“Do your drills. And take those fucking glasses off.” Travis spat it out like an afterthought, and Levi lobbed a sigh before pulling on his boxing gloves. The punches were slow, lethargic. The exact manifestation of his mental state. Barely there and sloth-like.

“Jesus,” Travis muttered when he came over a few minutes later. “You really reek.”

Levi glanced at him. “I know how to take showers, I swear.”

“Like whiskey,” Travis clarified. A disappointed sigh escaped him, but when he crossed his arms over his chest again a moment later, Levi could feel the verbal beat-down coming. His body prickled with nervousness.Fuck. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this.

“You know, I really thought we were fucking past this,” Travis said in a low voice, stilling the bag when Levi’s punches had stopped.

“Past what?” Levi asked, feeling every inch the petulant adolescent.

“Past you being a drunk idiot.” Travis said, theduhtone worse than when Gage got on his kicks. “Last time I checked, you wanted to go all in to win the title. But what I’m seeing here is a lazykidwho’d rather go get drunk and ruin all his progress.”

“I didn’t ruin anything,” Levi clarified, his chest tightening. “It was my off day. I’m allowed to celebrate. Besides, I’m here, aren’t I?” But the guilt slashed through him anyway. Travis was right.

“Barely,” Travis spat.

“Should I leave?” Riley asked in a small voice.

“No. Stay.” Travis propped his hands on his hips, swinging his angry gaze back to Levi. “He wants you to film the league, you better get all of it.”

“Listen,” Levi started, “Last night was a publicity stunt. Okay? I thought that maybe if I caused a scene, it might help draw more attention to the league.”

“Oh, did you?” The sarcasm dripped from his words. “I’m sure the fifteen shots of Hennessey or whatever you had were all for publicity too. Do you think that the court date you’re about to get slapped with will be a publicity stunt? You think I want my name and my gym attached to your publicity stunt?”

Travis’s words cut deep, but Levi tried not to let them sting. “This had nothing to do with you or the gym. Travis, it was—”

“No, Levi. Everything you fucking do now is attached to the gym. While those cameras are watching, you’re dragging me along with you. And don’t you forget that. You need to watch yourself. If you’re trying to cause a stir, at least make sure it’s worth it.”

Levi tapped the front of his boxing gloves together. Silence buzzed through the gym. It had been ages since he’d been chewed out like this. And now the hangover kicking in only reinforced Travis’s words.

“And by ‘worth it’ I mean you’re not beating up some Hollywood d-bag who looked at you wrong,” Travis said a moment later.

“What?”

“That’s whose face you smashed in last night, Levi.” Travis slapped at the man bun tied up on the top of Levi’s head. “Or don’t you remember?”

“How doyouknow?”

“The photographers filled me in when I got here.”

Levi sighed. The headache he’d started his day with had multiplied. Grown offspring. Launched several generations. “I’m sorry, Trav. It’s not gonna happen again.”

But as soon as he said that, Levi doubted his truthfulness. He couldn’t promise that. Not now, not ever. Because this was his old habit—cast all his troubles into the wind, and see where he landed the next day.

As long as he had that pressure in need of a valve, he’d need the outlet. And it was the only outlet that worked.

Travis receded into a watchful-taskmaster mood. Levi sank back into training while Riley moved around the gym, taking pictures. His hangover took precedence for the rest of the day—kept him quiet and squinty-eyed, trying to survive training. With each punch and grunt that left him, Travis’s disappointment vibrated a little louder inside him.

Travis wasn’t just his coach. Travis was damn near family at this point. Even though he still didn’t know half the story about Gage, Travis was the closest Levi had come to really letting someone new in. He’d even considered bringing Gage around to the gym so he could meet the guys.

But now? Levi could feel himself slipping. He’d lost a little bit of Travis’ faith, and that shit stung worse than the hangover.

Levi’s sweat was pure alcohol. While he worked on pull-ups, Riley lay on the ground and took pictures of him from below.

---