Addicted to Mr. Parks (The Park #2) (21 page)

“Wait.” I pulled on her arm as she started to move away. “I need my phone.”

Reluctantly, she dug into her bag and pulled out my phone. “I’ll be two minutes,” she mouthed. As I watched her swerve through the crowds and make her way outside, my phone buzzed in my hand. Shit. It was Parks.

Putting my finger in my left ear to try and dull the music, I answered the call and pressed the speaker as hard as I could into my right ear.

“Tell me where you are, Evelyn,” he bellowed. “And think very fucking carefully before you start lying to me.”

My heavy lids closed, and I didn’t hesitate to be honest. He’d obviously heard the music. “Project. I haven’t touched a drink. Please trust me. And please don’t go all Incredible Hulk on my arse,” I added quickly, bracing myself for him to do just that.

“Incredible fucking Hulk? I’m feeling angrier than him now.”

Oh shit.
His voice was acrimonious, so I tried to humour him. “Are you going to spank me?”

“Spank you?” he roared. “You’ve not seen fucking spanking like I’m going to give you.”

His reaction was understandable, but I was a grown-arse woman. “I’m not a child! Don’t you trust me?”

“You’re in recovery. You can’t be around drunks.”

“Nia says I shouldn’t walk around problems, but go in them.” Well, not into pubs per se.

“Then she’s fired,” he roared.

For some reason, something made me look up and across at the glass doors as I was about to hang up on him. My hands froze when I saw a familiar face walking through them. My thudding heart ramped up to an unhealthy level, and my breathing had completely stopped. The man had a clear determination as he searched the crowd for someone. That someone was me.

“Oh my God,” I gasped.

“Evelyn? What is it?”

“Trevor,” I breathed. “He’s here. How…?”

“Shit,” Parks’s rage turned into worry. “Evelyn, listen to me, I’m already on my way. Get into the restroom and lock yourself in until I get there. Understand?”

Parks’s demand was firm, but I was rooted to the spot, panic immobilising my limbs.

“Evelyn!” His roar had my feet taking action. I got up and quickly pushed past crowds of dancers as I hurried to the toilets. Tabby would notice me missing, but my priority was to hide.

Without thinking, I pushed my way through the queue of women waiting for the toilets and almost pulled another lady out of the cubical as she emerged. Ignoring the curses for pushing in, I quickly barricaded myself behind the door, flipped the lock, and took position on the toilet lid.

My knee was bouncing. My heart banging against my chest. My breathing on hold. All I had to do was sit and wait until Parks arrived. That was what I kept telling myself. Until I heard his voice.

“Get out.” It sent shivers down my spine. The women in the toilets went quiet until one girl spat, “Hey, you can’t come in here.”

“I said get the fuck out before I drag you out.” Clearly Trevor wasn’t going to take orders from a woman. Especially when his prey was near.

His threat was shortly followed by the sounds of gasps, gathering items, and then the emptying of the room.

“I know you’re in here, Evey. I have informers.”

Informers? My heart was pounding against my ribs, ringing in my ears. I wasn’t sure whether to stay put or try to make a run for it.

A loud bang made my bones jump within my skin. Trevor began kicking each of the toilet doors, starting with the first. They all opened in turn as he moved closer to mine.
Shit.
He was going to find me. I had two choices—to walk out and face him or hope to God Parks would arrive before he got to my cubicle. On the many times I had come into contact with Trevor, I faced him down and pretended I wasn’t scared of him. The last time was at a house party of his, filled with hordes of dealers and scary-looking men, and tons of strippers and half-naked women at his beck and call. Even at his party he’d almost beat a man to death for looking at him the wrong way.

Trevor was a terrifying thug, and he knew of my attitude and had once liked it. But this time I knew he had a reason to find me. He thought it was me who ratted on him and got him sent to prison. That wasn’t the case. But how could I drop my parents in the shit?

“Come on out.” His voice was a quiet threat, but so spine-chilling it paralyzed me. But I had to face him. I wasn’t a coward and wasn’t going to start acting like one.

Drawing in a deep breath, I unlocked the door and stepped out on wobbling legs.

“Ah.” He turned, his eyes fierce, his mouth turned up in a salacious grin. “There you are. Hiding from me isn’t a good look, Evey. Nor is sending a boyfriend to sort me out.”

He pointed to the deep scar that ran from the side of his mouth all the way to his ear. I refused to believe Parks was capable of such brutality. No way. He was lying.

“What?” My confusion consumed me.

“He wants to ruin my face,” he snarled, dipping into his jeans pocket for something. “Then I’ll ruin yours.” He ripped the lid off a glass bottle containing a clear liquid.

“What’s that?” I breathed, backing away as he stepped towards me.

“You’ll see. I told Gabe I wanted your pretty little face all to myself, but seeing as he’s gone missing, I think I’d prefer your face fucked up instead.”

“Missing?” I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about, and the cold wall that hit my back as I tried to retreat told me I had nowhere else to run.

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know what’s happened to him.” He lunged towards me, but the opening of the door behind him caught his attention, which gave me a second to move out of his way. I ran to the door and was almost knocked out of the way by Parks and a massive bald guy I’d never seen before.

“Evelyn.” Parks caught me by the waist, his eyes quickly studying me from head to toe. When he saw I was untouched but shaken up, he pushed me into the man that had followed him in.

“Get her out of here, Nixon,” he barked to the big guy.

“Wade, let me finish the fucker.” His fierce tone made me think it was him who had warned Trevor off, not Parks. When? How?

Parks shook his head sternly, telling him to back off and turned to Trevor. Trevor’s lip was curling; he was ready and waiting, but Parks was burning with rage, his body tense and ready for a fight.

When Parks spotted the bottle, I watched the blood drain from his face. “You motherfucker.” He launched himself forward, curling a strong, errorless blow to Trevor’s jaw and dropping him in an instant.

“Wade, no.” I ripped myself from Nixon’s grasp and pulled at Parks’s suit jacket with all my might. My efforts were useless. Parks had zoned out and wasn’t listening. Nixon took hold of my waist and pulled me back. I watched wide-eyed as Parks ripped the bottle from Trevor’s hands and held it up over his body. Trevor cowered on the floor, recoiling from Parks and begging for mercy.

“You ignored my first warning to stay away from Evelyn. There are no second chances.”

“You’re a dead man,” he sneered to Parks, who clearly wasn’t threatened by him. Parks positioned the bottle just above Trevor’s groin and was about to tip it.

“Wade,” I gasped. “What are you going to do to him?”

“Get her out,” Parks ordered Nixon, who caught me by the waist and pulled me through the door. Before it closed behind us, I caught the loud, piercing screams of a man in pain.

“What was in the bottle?” I asked Nixon as he dragged me out of the club. “Tell me.” I demanded a second time when he put me down outside.

He almost looked compassionate towards me when he answered. “Acid.”

My gasp was breathless. He was going to throw acid in my face? Holding on to a nearby car, I tried to catch my breath. Tried to stop myself from puking.

Moments later, Parks emerged from the club and nodded to Nixon, who re-entered the nightclub. Parks grabbed my wrist and pulled me down the street.

“You stupid fucking girl,” he roared.

I was trying to keep up with his fast and furious strides, but my feet were hardly touching the ground. “How did I know he was going to turn up with a bottle of acid?”

“If you didn’t put yourself in a position for him to find you, then he couldn’t have reached you. What the fuck would have happened if I wasn’t there?” His face paled. “I can’t even think about that. Why couldn’t you just stay in like I told you to?”

I yanked my hand out of his grip, ignoring his questions and needing my own answers. “You know Trevor? You knew he was out? You gave him that scar on his face? And where the fuck is Gabe?”

“Evelyn, what the fuck does that matter now? Get in the car.”

I saw the car, and Cleaver stayed put in the driver’s seat, giving me a scowl as I looked towards him through the window. Parks ripped open the door and almost threw me inside.

“I wanted a night out, Parks. Why should I be held captive?”

He buckled me in and slapped his palm on the seat between us. “Because you’re not in any state to go out,” he yelled.

“Don’t treat me like this,” I snapped back, hating the tone he was choosing to take with me.

He spun around. “How else am I meant to fucking treat you?” he yelled.

I automatically recoiled, my eyes widening, and I vaguely heard Cleaver clear his throat from the front. He seemed to be warning Parks, and Parks listened. His body sagged and his eyes closed, but he turned away from me and stared out the window.

We drove to his apartment in silence, and when we arrived, he was so mad he didn’t even open the door for me. I let myself out, slipped off my heels, and followed him into the lift barefoot. He punched in his code aggressively. “You know how hard it is for me to restrain myself right now? All I want to do is fucking spank the shit out of you for being so fucking stupid.”

The doors pinged open when we reached the apartment, and I marched in first. My temper was building, and I wasn’t going to keep quiet. “You can’t punish me with rage when you think I’ve misbehaved,” I screamed as he stormed past me and up the spiral stairs. I ran up the steps, trying to catch up to him.

“Leave me alone, Evelyn,” he warned quietly, but I wasn’t listening.

“You can’t threaten me with a spanking every time you think I need punishment,” I pushed as I followed him.

He spun around to face me. “I don’t know how else to deal with it.” His jaw was clenched, and he spread his arms wide. “I don’t know how else to deal with anger and emotion. I lash out. My temper is not to be messed with.”

I took his hands, trying to calm him down, but he pushed them away, brushing his hands through his hair instead.

“We talk. Argue.” I shrugged as I reeled off suggestions. “It doesn’t always have to end up with a spanking.”

“Then why don’t you ever listen to your own advice? Instead of working through your emotions, you numb yourself with alcohol. My coping mechanism is to lash out. To discipline.”

“But
I’m
changing,” I yelled, hating that he was throwing my issues in my face.

Pressing his palms onto the kitchen worktop, he bowed his head between his arms. “Then why was there a purchase made for three bottles of champagne tonight?”

My gulp was hard. “That wasn’t me. She nicked your card when I was in the toilet.”

“She?” He blinked. “And who is this friend? Seems to me she’s leading you astray.”

“I never touched any of the damn stuff. Anyway—” I narrowed my eyes, a little confused. “How did you even know where I was?”

Exasperated, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You called me. Accidently. I heard the background noise and called you back.”

I thought about it for a second. Tabby had my phone. Maybe she pressed Call by mistake?

“Is it too hard for you to say that actually I did well tonight? I’m trying to sort out my issues, and you’re not helping me.”

“I’m trying.” His voice was an antagonised whisper. “I really am. But you’re so difficult.” I stayed back, shifting side to side on bare feet, watching his tense body finally relax a little. “I’m so afraid of hurting you,” he breathed out with painful guilt.

I shook my head. “You wouldn’t hurt me. I know you wouldn’t.” I walked towards him and placed my hand on his shoulder, but he quickly brushed it off.

“Get to bed. Get some sleep.”

Frowning in confusion, I called after him as he sauntered back downstairs. “Are you not coming to bed with me?”

He ignored me.

Chapter Twenty

On Friday morning, I went to work alone. Parks wasn’t next to me when I awoke; neither was he anywhere to be found in his apartment. What I did find, though, was breakfast made for me and a text on my phone, telling me Cleaver would be waiting to take me to work.

When he was avoiding me or ignoring me, I felt lost. My solace was fractured, and if he wasn’t in a good place, neither was I.

Before I climbed out of the car, I asked a favour from Cleaver. “Cleaver, could you take me to Brighton this evening? Wade and I are supposed to be visiting my aunt this weekend. Seems he’s forgotten, but I’d still like to go.”

His eyes shifted uncomfortably. “Does Wade know this?”

“Yes.” I sighed, frustrated. “But he’s not talking to me. If you won’t take me, I’ll take the train.”

“Evey.” Cleaver shifted to face me. “Forgive me for saying, but Wade’s actions are either blunt and forthcoming or subtle. He puts signs of his feelings out there without actually saying the words, if you catch my drift.” He chuckled, trying to make a potentially deep conversation casual.

Cleaver telling me what I already knew was heart-warming because it proved he cared. Parks showed me his feelings, buying me endless gifts and clothes, treating me like a princess, and showing me how much he loved my body, but those were all actions. I’d told him I needed words. Words were vital to me, but he still hadn’t done that. Sure, he’d thrown me abrupt words and words of control, but he’d never actually come out with words of how he really, deeply felt.

“Thanks, Cleaver. See you later.” I pushed out of the car and landed my heels on the pavement. I did contemplate running over to Starbucks to see Tabby but decided against it. I tried to call her that morning, but her phone was switched off. I hoped she was all right. She definitely deserved an explanation.

“Morning, my girl.” Clarke’s chirpy attitude didn’t do anything to cheer me up.

“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.”

I shifted in my seat, soaking up her words of wisdom. Words of truth. “Evey, you have always anesthetised your feelings,” she went on. “You have deep-rooted self-doubt about your worth, chronic anger built into you because of your past, and a compulsive need to engage in the behaviour you see as survival.”

What I saw as survival was the need to put up that front. Be cold. Distant. Place that heavy shield of amour behind all those walls I built. “But my behaviour is changing,” I told her quickly. “I don’t need that survival routine anymore just to get by. Isn’t that a good thing?” I was clutching at straws, figuratively, hoping the trivial change in my nature was progress. Small but surely.

“Of course it is.” Her smile told me what I’d hoped to hear, but she wasn’t done with me just yet. “Every day you’re making progress, but your survival has turned to Wade.” She took another breath, and every time she did it, I gained even more anxiety. “I’m getting the sense that you think you will never be fulfilled. You think nothing will ever be enough to satisfy you?”

“Wade satisfies me.” I chuckled. “Not just in that way. But every day. Yes, he’s the most difficult, arrogant man I have ever met. But he’s also the most loving and kind. He puts me first and treats me like a princess.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

Nia laughed, throaty and loud. “Progress,” she agreed.

I gulped down half of my coffee before it got cold, then glanced over my shoulder to see what had caught Nia’s eye. Seemed it was Tabby. I gave a small wave when she saw me, then shifted back to converse with Nia.

“She’s been watching us. Discreetly. But I’ve seen her.” Nia’s tone was neutral. But I sensed the uncertainty she was trying to cover up. As well as being a support worker, Nia was an extremely great judge of character. Whether it was a sixth sense or just off the cuff, I wasn’t sure.

“Tabby? She’s my friend. Well, sort of. We’ve been bonding.” I scoffed out a laugh, because my new attitude was exactly that to me. New.

“I’m not getting good vibes with that one, Evey.” She quickly shook herself out of it. “Sorry, that’s not my place to say.”

I shrugged a shoulder, breaking off more shortbread. “Tabby’s harmless. A quiet girl but lovely. And I don’t throw those comments around much. I need to clear something up with her, though. That’s probably why she’s hovering.”

Nia tried to laugh along with me, but it wasn’t genuine. She was worried, and it threw me a little, so I went back to our conversation. “What if it kills me like all my other addictions, Nia? What if it takes over my life?”

“You have to find that balance between love and addiction.”

“Love?” I gaped. I wasn’t in love. Was I?

“Love.” She nodded. “Your mind is a slave to physical addiction, but your heart isn’t a fool. The hard thing is, your mind doesn’t always play ball with your heart, so that’s down to you. Which one you choose to side with.”

My eyes narrowed, a sure sign of confusion. “I don’t understand.”

She knew I wasn’t following, so she spoke clearer. “You have a hopeless desire for fulfilment, but no fulfilment can be achieved when you’re an addict because you always want what you’re addicted to. Fulfilment will come,” she reassured my horror, “when you get that balance. When it stops becoming an addiction and when you recognise it as love.”

“What’s the difference?”

She sighed. “Some say there isn’t. But I say there is. Addiction is when you
feel like
you can’t live without something. It becomes unhealthy. Love is a mutual satisfaction. Love is only painful if it’s wrong.”

“How can it be so wrong if he’s my addiction?”

“Because an addiction is dangerous, Evey.”

“If it’s a danger, then why is he my clarity?”

Her smile was affectionate. “He’s your solace. I can see that. And I can also see that you are his. You will both feel co-dependent because you both take satisfaction from being needed. You hold on to everything Wade does for you because you don’t want that feeling of abandonment, and neither does he. But at the same time, you both have a difficultly identifying what you’re feeling, and have difficulty adjusting to change.”

How did she know so much about Parks when she
my
support worker, not his? “Have you spoke to Wade before?”

She tapped the side of her nose. “I’ve known him for a while. Put it that way.”

My attempts to delve into their business were surely going to be shunned, so I didn’t bother. Instead, I asked a question that desperately needed an answer. “We will ever have a healthy, mutual relationship?”

“Of course.” She was sure. “But sometimes the beginning is always the hardest.”

I began to shift my mug from side to side, contemplating my next sentence.

“What is it?” she pushed mildly.

“Wade has a temper, I mean, really bad. Sometimes he can’t control it. I know he wouldn’t hurt me, and I’m not scared of him,” I quickly added to reassure her concern. “What I’m scared of is why he has that temper. He won’t tell me what he’s hiding.”

Nia’s phone buzzed, and by the frown that filled her forehead as she looked at the screen, I could tell it was urgent. “Evey, I’m so sorry, I have to take this. But call me.”

“Thank you. I will,” I called after her as she made her way out of the coffee shop with her phone glued to her ear. I remained seated, trying to gather my bearings, but Tabby’s voice startled me as she sank down into the seat Nia previously occupied.

“Who was that?” she asked, frowning.

“Um, just a friend. Tabby—”

“I know!” she butted in. “I am so sorry about last night. I literally got talking to some guy outside and went home with him. I was too embarrassed to tell you. I’m such a shit friend.”