Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(63)

“Morning,” I grumbled, plonking myself into my seat and wiggling my mouse to start up my computer. Even though Clarke sounded chirpy, he didn’t look it. “You look knackered, Clarke.”

“I am extremely fatigued, Evey. Yes.”

“Oh?” I asked why as I typed in my password.

“I had a three a.m. jail callout.” He yawned.

I felt his pain. I couldn’t imagine being woken up at that time to bail out a criminal. I’d end up being the criminal, doing time for lamping them for waking me up. Mornings and I were still negotiating a relationship.

“A jail callout, you say?”

Oh God. Our conversation spiked the unwelcome attention of Billy, who was on his way over with his bullshit.

I gave Clarke a nudge with my elbow. “Here comes Buzz Killington.”

“Buzz who?” Clarke’s perplexity was hilarious, and if my laughing wasn’t enough to stop me answering him, Billy had wedged himself between us.

“I’ve had three callouts this week. Ghastly.”

“Three?” Clarke quizzed.

I leant over and around Billy’s stomach and hissed to Clarke. “Do you have to encourage him?”

Billy wasn’t listening. He was so engrossed with his own voice, he hadn’t even noticed mine and Clarke’s whispering.

“You’re terribly rude, Evey,” Clarke said.

I scowled. “I’m not rude. I just say what everyone is thinking.”

“Ever thought about keeping your thoughts to yourself?” he queried jokingly.

My face was impassive as I thought about it for a mere second. “No.” Then Billy’s voice suddenly came back into focus. “Billy.” I pushed up my palm to make him stop talking. “I’ve already got a headache. Your voice is making it worse.”


“Oh,” he said, fluttering with his tie. “I do apologise, although I suffer from severe migraines, and…”

I blocked out his voice and closed my eyes to ask God to give me strength.

I mindlessly got through half of the workday. A quarter of my brain was on work, the rest was on damn Parks. Arrogant arse. The fact he was in the same building as me, but felt so far away, was digging into me deep. I wanted to march up to his office and demand his attention. I needed his attention. It was ridiculous. He was my addiction, and like all others, it was getting dangerous.

At lunchtime I texted Nia to see if she was around. She was only a couple of streets away finishing up with a client and agreed to meet me.

I rushed over to Starbucks at twelve and saw Nia already waiting at a table. Her clothes made me smile. Every item she had on was either purple or lilac, and her mass of curls looked windswept. She was quirky, and I loved that.

Squashing myself through the mass of people, I finally reached her table and parked my backside on the chair opposite her and saw she’d already ordered us two coffees with shortbread.

“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice. I wanted to talk to you somewhere out of earshot from Wade.” I hung my bag onto the back of the chair, already feeling peaceful in Nia’s aura.

“Perfect,” Nia agreed, taking her coffee into her palms and gesturing towards mine. “Different locations means different vibes and feelings.”

I picked up the coffee, blew the steam from the top, and pondered before taking a sip. Nia waited patiently. “I went to a club last night.”

Her bushy brows rose. “And?”

“I didn’t drink,” I cleared it up quickly. “I felt…okay. That’s good, yes?”

Nia pursed her lips as she swallowed down her coffee and smiled. “You’re not a social drinker, Evey. Going to a club and being surrounded by alcohol won’t tempt you. What tempts you is the need to block out emotion. But,” she added seriously, “I’m proud of you.”

I rolled my eyes as I snapped off some shortbread. “At least someone is.”

“There’s something else?” she pushed gently.

I stared at my shortbread. “What I wanted to know was—and I might sound stupid here—but…can I become addicted to a person?”

Her smile remained, but it was slightly pitiful. “Wade?” I nodded, so she pinned narrowed eyes on me. “Tell me why you think you’re addicted to him?”

I took a sip of my coffee and kept the warm mug in my hands, talking into it rather than making eye contact with Nia. “It’s like, when I’m with him, I don’t want to be anywhere else. When he’s near me, I’m on more of a high than I’ve ever been. I don’t want to fall under co-dependency because I have always been independent, but I feel like I’m slipping under his spell. It’s so easy to lose myself in him. I forget who I am. I forget my past and all the things that have hurt me when he’s around. It’s like tunnel vision.” I couldn’t look up at her. I didn’t want to see if she thought I was a looney for suggesting such things. However, it was how I felt, and it needed to be said.

“You crave what he can do for you, Evey.” I peered up, intent on listening and absorbing. “Remember—” she pointed at me with a piece of shortbread, “—it’s not the addiction that confines you, it’s the side effect you crave because of what the alcohol can do to make you forget. You said you found daily routines and hobbies to suppress the urge for alcohol, like swimming? But now to suppress it, you have a wonderful man who worships the ground you walk on.” She paused, so I remained silent. “With every addiction, there is a fall. At first you take as much as you can get, then you crash, but you remember how good it made you feel, so you go back for more.”