Free Addicted to Mr. Parks (The Park #2) by Lilly James Page A

beauty to me is limitless.” My tears came heavily at his statement, and I sobbed into his chest loudly. “My beautiful, brave girl, please don’t cry.”
    But I couldn’t stop. I was defenceless and exposed. Physically and mentally. It felt like I was sobbing for everything I had never sobbed for but should have. The anger towards my mother. My grandparents’ deaths. My scars. My addictions. My wrongs. The pain. The hate. The hurt. It all poured out of me in the form of heavy tears, and they wouldn’t stop.
    “I’m going to make it better, Evelyn. All your pain and heartache. Tell me all of it, and I will make it go away.”
    Parks held me tight until I stopped crying. His arms felt like my protective armour, and I never wanted to free myself from it. The thought was both harrowing and uplifting. I never relied on anybody. But it seemed I was leaning towards this man, clinging on to him because he made me feel wanted. Needed.
    “How did you get them?” he asked gently. Drawing in a breath, I perched at the end of the bed, clutching the baby-doll to my chest. Parks moved over to me, refusing to leave my side. “Take your time,” he soothed, his thumb smoothing my shoulder.
    I didn’t know where to start. “My mum was making me boiled eggs one time for my dinner. They were my favourite. Still are. Halfway through, she fell asleep because she was so drugged up and left the water still boiling in the saucepan.” Parks was already furious and I’d only just started. “She wouldn’t wake up, and I was so hungry. So I took it upon myself to take the water off the cooker, but I lost my grip. The pan was too heavy for me.” I was staring into space as I recalled the memory, but I felt Parks’s grip tighten around me. “I screamed so loud from the pain that it woke her up from her heroin sleep. My mother drenched a towel in cold water and told me to hold it on my stomach myself. But water is never the way to treat burns like the ones I had.”
    “How old were you?” he asked, his whisper entwined with hidden pain.
    “Six,” I breathed. “I can still remember the pain. I was in agony. Eventually, my neighbour heard my screams, and she took me to the hospital. My dad turned up an hour later. He was out stealing for his next fix but came as soon as he heard. My aunty was also called, and that’s when she said she’d had enough. She wanted me to go and live with her. But I wouldn’t go with her. I wanted to stay with my mum and dad. If I left them, they would’ve hated me because I would’ve gotten them into trouble. And I was desperate for their love.” Parks kissed my head soothingly, listening to every word. “My mum told me it was my fault for going near the cooker. I said I was sorry.” My head dipped. “I was so, so sorry.”
    “It wasn’t your fault.” He was tender, but I could sense the resentment he felt towards my parents laced within him.
    “But she made me think it was. The burns left scaring because my mother wouldn’t treat them properly. She should have cleaned them up every day, changed my dressing, but she simply couldn’t be bothered. I was a six-year-old kid looking after my own burns.” I couldn’t tell him any more and remain strong, so I clutched at his chest and buried myself into the warmth I suddenly seemed to crave, crying silently.
    “Princess.” His tone expressed distress. “No one should have to grow up that way and have to be the strong one. No child deserves a parent that is too selfish to take care of the needs of their own child. They are scum.”
    “It’s not even half of what she did to me.” I sniffed, and his jaw clenched. Parks wasn’t able to bear the fact he was powerless against my parents. The damage had already been done, but he was in control of trying to help me get better.
    “Tell me when you’re ready. But just know I would never hurt you like they have. Ever. And if they or anyone tries to hurt you again, they will be breathing their