Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(82)

“Parks, are you going all soppy on my arse?”

He slapped my arse, making me yelp. “Don’t call me Parks. And it’s not soppy, it’s the truth.” He shrugged. Parks confessed words of need, yet his soul seemed to distance itself from me the minute he spoke. He sighed and sat up in bed, making me untangle myself from the warmth of him and shift to his side.

“What’s wrong?” I watched on as he put his head in his hands. Plainly, I was staring at a man who was lost, and I had no idea as to why. So how was I ever going to find him?

As soon as he knew about my dark issues, he wanted to help me. From that day on, he threw himself into making me feel special. Wanted. He was bringing me into the light. Making me believe in hope. But by helping my issues, he was masking his own. And that wasn’t right.

“Please don’t shut me out,” I begged, reaching out and touching his withdrawn back.

His sigh was ragged, and it almost formed a lump in my throat. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“But you’re not letting me in, either.” Trust me to start falling for a man that was emotionally shut down. Before Parks, I was also emotionally detached, and I prayed to the heavens his reasons weren’t similar.

“I’m mending.” I smiled through my words, trying to keep it light. “I’m mending because when I’m around you, I forget how bad and useless my life used to be. I forget the pain my mind was swamped by. I forget the hurt. The lies. But you’ve given me hope, Wade. And hope is something I have never believed in. Won’t you let me give you hope?”

He gave another sigh, but it was painful and drawn out. “Evelyn, getting you back to a place where you’re happy, where you are set free, is my goal. That’s all I care about. Not me.”

Unusual tears stabbed at the corners of my eyes. Pain I hadn’t felt for a long time was returning. “But I care about you. I care about your happiness. Aren’t I allowed to do that?”

Parks turned to me, his eyes grave and bleak. Hidden torture was easy to spot for someone like me, because I faced it every time I looked in the mirror. He swiped at a stray tear that drifted down my cheek. “Don’t cry for me,” he breathed.

“If I don’t, then who will?”

“I don’t want or need you to feel sorry for me, Evelyn.”

“Why? Because you’re too strong to accept pity? Don’t you know I understand all this? I am the one person who knows how hard it is to be strong when all you want to do is cry. Cry until there are no tears left. Cry until someone out there hears you and feels your pain.” Swiping at my tears gave him something to focus on. But my eyes were closing sorrowfully.

“Evelyn, I feel your pain. I hear your cries. And to me, you are the strongest, bravest woman I have ever met. You inspire me, and not many people do. You are my life now, but please don’t pressure me into telling you my demons because once I’m exposed—”

“—you’re vulnerable,” I finished off his sentence, making him bow his head between us. “I get it,” I admitted, trying desperately to push back tears.

After a brief pause, he kissed my forehead and lingered for a time. “Get some sleep.”

“No.” I pulled on his arm. “Don’t leave me. Please. I can’t stand it when you leave me. I need you with me. When you’re gone, I panic because I don’t know when you’re going to come back.”

Hearing the distress in my voice and seeing the torment in my eyes gave him only one option. “Princess, I’m not leaving. I won’t ever leave you.” He climbed back into bed with me, pulled the sheets over our bodies, and tucked me into him, close and safe.

We both had pasts and demons we were trying to deal with individually, but suddenly they were combined and we had to cope with them together.

Having each other was either going to be a blessing or a curse.





Chapter

Twenty-Seven





The rest of the week was blissful. We woke up together, rode to work together, and had lunch together—which ended with him f*cking me on his desk every time. All week I had breezed through my work with a smile on my face. Clarke couldn’t quite believe the change in me.

“I’ll be damned, my girl. It’s Friday and you’re still smiling.”

I pulled my bag from the back of my chair and began packing away my things. “Well,” I answered Clarke, “the thought of who I get to go home to every night might just be the reason for that.”

Clarke looked on in wonder. “If I knew Mr. Parks would have this effect on you, I would have introduced you months ago.”

“I knew you were f*cking,” one of the closeted Johns called over.

Pat gasped, highly offended but his use of language. “John Staples, how dare you make use of such inappropriate language in this office, and towards a woman?”

John recoiled from her scolding. “Keep your hair on. I was only saying.”

“Apologise,” Pat demanded.

There was no reason for John to apologise. I knew what he was like. His mouth was worse than mine. “It’s fine, Pat,” I told her quickly, suppressing my grin. “I’m just waiting for Billy to come back with ‘I’m f*cking someone better.’”

John howled along with myself and the other John, and I even heard Clarke snickering, but Pat, being the oldest and hugely stuck-up, was mortified. “I will not hear any more use of this language.”