Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(4)

“Mum.” I bellowed her name as I began frantically looking under the bed, in my handbag, then through the piles of clothes that had been searched through. “Have you been in here for anything?”

“No,” she called after a suspicious pause. I couldn’t accuse her, so I remained calm, because I was fully aware of what would happen if I did accuse.

“Have you seen my watch?” I knew I’d put it beside the bed, and I could’ve kicked myself for not putting it on that morning. It was routine from the day Parks gave it to me. But that morning I decided not to wear it because I was going swimming. Sure my memory was terrible, but I was positive about where I left it.

“What watch?” Again, her pause was a reason to doubt her. I stopped looking around for it and stared up at the ceiling, trying to gain composure.

“My Chanel watch.”

“Didn’t even know you had a Chanel watch. Posh bitch. Always did think you were better than everyone, didn’t you?”

A groan left my throat at how unnaturally infuriating my mother was. “Mum, give me a break. I’ve never thought I was better than anyone.”

“Yes, you f*cking do,” she snarled. The constant goading, the way she always put me down and dragged me to unstable place should have been like water off a duck’s back. But it always hurt to hear.

I stormed into the living room and hovered over her to make my point crystal clear. “I was the kid who went to school with a uniform that was miles too small for me. Shoes that were falling apart and no coat in the winter. How the hell is that thinking I was better than everyone else?” At first I got picked on, bullied, and called names. After a couple of years of taking shit from other kids, I finally found my inner strength. Needless to say, no one ever picked on the tramp kid again.

My mother was licking her cut lips, which made my nostrils flare. “I gave you what I could, Evey. You’re just an ungrateful bitch.”

My resistance to accuse my mother straight out for taking my watch was wearing thin. “Mum, tell me what you’ve done with my watch.”

She slammed her palm down onto the arm of the sofa. “I ain’t seen your damn watch. Why don’t you put your f*cking glasses on so you can see clearly?”

“I haven’t worn glasses since I was eleven, Mum.”

“Good job and all.” She laughed. “You look like a freak with glasses on. You were damn ugly as a kid, Evey.”


“Yes, Mum, so you keep telling me.” I hated that I had the strength and balls to have it out with anyone that spoke to me like shit. But when my mother did it, I couldn’t find the strength to tell her to get f*cked.

I walked back into my bedroom and slumped down onto the bed, my head falling between my knees. She stole my watch and had every intention of selling it. Unless I turned the flat upside down to try and find it, I had to face the fact that it was gone. The watch Parks had given me as a gesture of goodwill. As an incentive to get me to work on time. I wasn’t just upset because the piece was beautiful. It was because of what it meant to me.

I could never have nice things around my mother. Ever. She was too much of a jealous, cold person to let me have nice things.

“Hey, kid.” My dad knocked on my bedroom door and peered in.

“Frank, come ‘ere,” my mother shrieked.

My dad rubbed my arm tentatively, then went to face my mother. He was terrified of her. Whatever she said was the rules, and he would never disobey her. I really didn’t understand it.

I took a lukewarm bath and pressed Shuffle on my playlist. Jessie J’s beautiful voice poured out of the speaker with “Who You Are.” As she sang, I stared at my reflection in the mirror in front of me, asking why was I doing this to myself? Was everybody hurting because of my actions? I didn’t believe it was okay not to be okay, but I did believe that tears meant I was losing. Losing the battle to keep myself strong. Parks left me, my mother hated me, and I lost my best friend and my home. How on earth was I still holding it together?

Holding it together had become one of my specialties, though. It was the only thing I was good at. While my insides were crumbling, my lungs finding it hard to breathe, I held everything together on the outside and made myself look like I was brave. A strong and independent woman who needed no one. But doesn’t everyone need someone? I thought I didn’t until I had the privilege of falling into a man’s arms and feeling like the whole weight of the world had suddenly left my fragile mind.

But hope was gone now. Just like I knew it would be. Maybe I just had to face the facts; happiness was not designed for someone like me.

After my bath, I took my smartphone out, laid on my bed, and typed in the search engine:



Wade Parks



Numerous pictures of his handsome face popped up as he conversed with celebrities, business tycoons, and other billionaires. I paid special attention to a photo of him with his sister Jasmine and his mother. He looked at ease with the two women, but his father was nowhere to be seen. After moments of browsing, I became infatuated by the amount of photographs he had alone. As I stared at the sharpness of his picture and gazed into his enchanting green eyes, I felt a sense of loss. Even though I was never found. I never belonged to him. But I felt safe with him, and now I was lost property again. An item no one wanted. Staring at his picture put me in a predicament. I wanted the man that felt like my haven, yet I hated him for leaving me.