Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(43)

“Evelyn?” Parks barked as he followed me, and when I bent down to wave a hand in Mathew’s face, he pulled my arm back.

“What are you doing?”

“I know him, chill out.” He let me go and clenched his jaw. “Mathew?” I called, tipping his chin up to face me. He squinted, then smiled clumsily when he saw it was me. “Evey? Hey.”


“Are you okay?” I could see he wasn’t. Mathew was a happy drunk, such good fun, and knew when to stop so he wouldn’t get bladdered. He was blotto, though, and extremely upset.

“She’s left me, Evey. Steph’s left me.” He threw his head in his hands and started to break down.

Oh God. I was not expecting that. I glanced over to Parks, but he was just as clueless as I was. Awkwardly, I tapped Mathew’s back, only able to show rigid affection. “It’ll be okay.”

“No, it won’t. She doesn’t love me no more, Evey.”

Poor bloke. I intended on kicking Steph up her skinny little arse. “What shall we do?” I whispered to Parks.

He took my hand and went to walk off. “He’ll be fine. He’s a man.”

I yanked my hand back. “Wade, he’s heartbroken. We can’t leave him.” I was about to help Mathew stand, but one of his mates came by and did it for me, throwing Mathew’s arm over his shoulder.

“I’ll get him home,” he slurred.

I stared after him, feeling accountable for his misery. “I need to get to Steph.”

Parks frowned at my suggestion. “Why?”

“Because I know she loves him. She’s in a bad place because of me, and she shouldn’t take that out on Mathew.”

Steph didn’t know how to snap out of feeling any strong emotions, and my actions were probably what caused their breakup. With this new knowledge, I was even more determined to get my best friend back.

A few minutes later, Cleaver pulled up outside Steph’s flat. I pulled the spare key out of my bag, quickly jumped out of the car, and almost ran up the path to let myself in. Closing the door quietly behind me, I heard wailing, moaning, and slamming. Without hesitation, I rounded the corner and came face-to-face with a sight that was not on my bucket list to see. Julian and Steph were f*cking in the kitchen. Doggy-style.

“Steph?” I screamed at her. Screamed because she was a f*cking idiot. Both naked bodies stopped immediately, stunned like a pair of rabbits in headlights.

“Evey?” They both scrambled to their feet, stumbling and losing balance. Julian tripped over his boxer shorts as they were wrapped around his ankles, and Steph tried to cover up her boobs and lady organ with a small cushion.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steph yelled.

My eyes were begging for cover, but I couldn’t stop staring at the scene in front of me. “Never mind that. What the f*ck are you playing at?”

She yelled at me as Julian got dressed quickly. “This has nothing to do with you, Evey. Get out.”

“Mathew is heartbroken because of you. Is this why you dumped him?” I looked Julian up and down, my gaze dragging over his form in repugnance. “Because of that jumped-up prick.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Steph was panicking.

“I found him outside a bar, Steph. He was legless. How could you?” I then snapped my head Julian’s way and jerked my thumb. “You. Fuck off.”

“You can’t tell me to leave. You don’t live here anymore.” He was such a bitch. I couldn’t stand the way he thought he had every right to be in Steph’s life more than I did.

“Julian, just get out.” Steph rubbed at her forehead, surprisingly backing me up.

Julian positioned his shirt back into place and ripped his gym bag from the floor. He stalked past me, barging my shoulder intentionally. Not being able to help myself, I called to him as he left. “Oh and by the way, I always knew you had a small willy.” Yes, it was highly unnecessary to point out, but so what?

“Fuck you,” he spat, slamming the door on his way out.

I closed my eyes before turning back to my errant best friend. “Steph, get some clothes on. I can’t talk to you when your nipple is pointing at me.”

She was standing with the small pillow covering her vagina, but her tits were out.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Evey. Leave,” she warned, backing away from me, because if she turned around, it would have exposed her arse. If I wasn’t so mad at her, I would have started laughing because the scene was comical. Unbelievable. But comical.

Steph backed up into her bedroom and slammed the door. Half expecting her to get changed and come back out, I slumped down onto the mismatched sofa and waited. And waited.

After ten minutes, I pushed off my feet on a sigh and knocked on her door, pressing my forehead against the wood. “Steph, please talk to me.”

“Go away.” She was crying, so I sagged and let myself in.

Her jumble-sale room gave me a headache. Her bedding and pillows were green and red, her wardrobe old and rustic, but she loved it even though she found it in a skip, and her floral curtains were homemade.


She was wrapped modestly in her pink robe and clutching at a pillow when I entered, so I flopped down onto the bed with her. “What’s going on inside your head?”

She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. “Too much.”