Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(98)

After kicking off my shoes, I held them against my chest and marched my way down the walkway, only to hear his voice minutes later.

“Evelyn?”

I couldn’t look at him. I knew if I turned, I would burst into weak tears. Tears were something I never did, but since being with Parks, they seemed to flow continuously.

Furiously rounding the corner, I found the door that led into the house. I had no idea which way was which, but I knew my destination was not with Parks.

“Evelyn. Answer me!” He caught my wrist and spun me around. Seeing his face brought out that temper of mine that I needed moments before. I wanted to slap him in the face with my heels, but instead I threw them at him, banging him in the chest.

“You knew,” I screamed. “You knew I was broken when you met me. Knew I was a mess inside.”

Hurtfully, his features didn’t deny it, only his words. “What are you are talking about?”

I pushed him away from me, thumping my palm against his shoulder. “Jasmine told me you’re a magnet attracted to broken women. You wanted my misery because it would mask yours? You used me.” Tears threatened again, and at that point I was too angry and weak to stop them.

Parks took a step back, his face pale, green eyes wide, and his tone a deathly whisper. “She said that?”

Ignoring him, I swiped at my tears. “You told her I was an alcoholic.” As soon as I’d said those words, the immense feeling of betrayal brutally knocked me backwards. My hand went to my mouth, tears falling down my cheeks. “You would do that to me? Lead me into false hope?” I couldn’t stand it. I was going to be sick.

“Evelyn.” He exhaled my name as he stepped towards me, pained to see me crying.

“Don’t f*cking touch me,” I barked, harshly knocking his hands away. “Is Jasmine telling the truth?”

Running a firm hand through his hair, he cursed and threw his head back as if he were praying up at the skies for a way out.

“Well?” I shouted.

“Yes,” he said softly. “She was telling the truth.” He opened his hands as he tried to explain, but I closed my eyes on him from the pain. “But it’s not how it sounds. It’s different with you. All the other women I’ve f*cked are already heartbroken in some way. So I f*ck them knowing they won’t get attached. I can’t afford attachments.”

My hand was covering my mouth, my head shaking in disbelief. “I thought you wanted me for me. Now I know it’s just because you thought I wouldn’t get attached.” My hands flew out in rage. “Well, now I am attached. I’m attached to you so f*cking much that you’ve become my addiction. Don’t you see? I don’t drink or think of drink when I’m around you because I have you. I need you. I need to be with you. I need to know you’re thinking of me. I need to know you want me. So now I am attached, are you going to throw me away?”


My words cut into him deeply. His closed eyes were hiding the pain he felt. Hiding the reaction to my words.

“Evelyn, it’s not always broken women. I’m attracted to strong women, women who don’t fall in love. You think I have time to pick up pieces of a woman’s heart? Watch them cry over the way I treat them?”

Angrily, I swiped at my tears, hating that they were falling. “Why?” I waved my hand over his body. “Why are you like this?”

“Evelyn, not now.” He tried to pull me into the house and away from listening ears, but I ripped myself away from him and screamed the top of my lungs.

“Tell me!”

“No,” he barked, his face inches from mine. “You don’t need to know my shit.”

“Fine,” I yelled. “I’m going to bed. Tell your mother good night from me.”

“I’m coming with you.” He moved his feet into action to follow me, but I swung around and shoved him back, even hurting my hand that thumped his chest.

“You follow me, Parks, and I swear to God I will raise holy hell.”

The clench of his jaw was hard, but he took a step back and let me leave.





Chapter Thirty





A house assistant took me to the bedroom myself and Parks were occupying. The room was huge, of course, the décor white and classy, with crystal ornaments. I thanked the assistant and went straight to my suitcase. Rummaging through it, I found my jewellery box, unclasped my necklace, and placed it into the box next to the gorgeous ruby, then sat cross-legged on the floor in my dress, letting the song play. Parks was extremely thoughtful. He listened. He was kind and caring. But he was also a difficult bastard. A thousand scenarios were swarming around in my head. I hated that he felt he couldn’t talk to me or tell me his secrets. What possible secret could he have?

Jasmine was a bitch, but Harriet seemed the perfect woman, wife, and mother. Intelligent, kind, warm, not a single hair out of place. However, I never got to meet his father, so that was where my curiosity was lingering. It was also lingering around Parks’s sincerity. Jasmine admitted he only f*cked broken women—broken women with no heart so he could focus on their pain rather than his own. He knew he couldn’t break a heartless woman’s heart. I was heartless. He knew that. Was that why he dated me in the first place? He said I was different, but I’m not. I’m exactly the same as those other broken women. Was Sasha broken? That poor woman who killed herself? She was obviously broken. What about all the women I didn’t know about? And now me? He saw my damage and latched on to me tightly. It was true. He didn’t want me for me. He wanted me to forget his own life. His own damage. My reason for needing Parks was the exact same, but there was a difference. He was a heeling remedy for me. I was a cloaking remedy for him.