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‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ he growled angrily.
‘It means I hate that these kids sometimes feel they have no one on their side. Some might grow out of it before it gets noticed, especially with boys who find other ways than cutting, which they think is more a girl’s thing. But just because they punch themselves, or walls, or initiate fights where they know they’ll get hurt doesn’t make it any less self-harming than cutting is.’
‘You’re saying if boys fight they’re replacing cutting themselves with getting beaten up?’ he said scornfully. ‘Boys fight, it’s a normal part of growing up. It’s a way of letting off a bit of steam against another kid who has got under your skin. Better than the social exclusion some girls use against others. Isn’t it that kind of ostracising which contributes to some kids self-harming?’
‘Yes, but I’m not talking about evenly matched boys taking the occasional argument into the playground, Max, I’m talking about some boys who purposefully get into fights every single day, especially if they choose older or bigger kids who they know will easily beat them up and hurt them.’
‘A broken nose, even a broken rib, depending on who they choose to fight?’ Max demanded unexpectedly ‘If kids call them names because they have a big nose, or ears which stick out?’
‘Sometimes it’s that,’ Evie agreed. ‘Other times it’s following a traumatic event. But it doesn’t even have to be so clear-cut. It might just be a sense of feeling they don’t measure up somehow. And they might not fight other kids, they might wait until no one’s around and punch walls, or deliberately put themselves into dangerous situations. That’s when it goes from boys fighting as a normal part of growing up, to them finding a way of self-harming without actually cutting.’
She expected him to come back at her. Instead he stared at her, unexpectedly silent, his face set into an expression she’d never seen before. It worried her.
‘What is it?’
&nb
sp; ‘Nothing, I’m sorry.’ He seemed instantly contrite.
‘Max?’
‘It’s nothing.’ He was really making an effort to sound nonchalant. Anyone else might have bought it. But not her.
‘Max? What’s wrong? Talk to me.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MAX FROZE. HER WORDS were like an unexpected bombshell. And then it was as if a red-hot rod seared through his gut.
Evie had no idea of the emotional Pandora’s box her words had just opened. How could she? He’d never told her. He’d never even realised it himself. He’d seen it in people like Dean, although he hadn’t recognised it for what it was. But himself? Never.
And yet, for the first time in his life, he felt as though he was looking at someone he could actually trust.
It wasn’t just about the sex.
The thought slammed into him like a lorry jackknifing into his chest. For all the banter and teasing in Arabella’s office, he knew Evie was more than just that one fling. And it wasn’t just about the daughter who would now connect them for ever. He wanted that connection with Evie. He wanted her to be in his life. Her and Imogen.
And that meant talking to her, confiding in her, in a way he’d never anticipated confiding in anyone in his life. It meant trusting Evie. But he could do it, because he owed it to her to be as honest with her as she’d now been with him.
‘Was that you, Max? Were you that kid?’ she asked gently, and he was reminded that he wasn’t just trusting Evie, the mother of his child. He was trusting Dr Parker. He didn’t know who he was talking to right now, but he didn’t suppose it mattered, just as long as he talked.
‘I used to come home every night with a bloody nose, a black eye or cracked ribs,’ he started hesitantly.
‘Why?’
He shrugged, unable to find the words. He’d shut off his past so firmly that he’d almost forgotten about the fighting. Now it was hard to articulate it.
‘Did you want the attention from your parents?’
‘No,’ he snorted. ‘And if I had it would have had the opposite effect. They found it hard enough to tell me they were proud of me when I achieved all they expected of me—they could never have dealt with talking about any problems I was having. I think that would have made them retreat into their careers even more.’
‘Your parents didn’t think you ever had problems? Almost every kid has a problem growing up one way or another.’
‘Not me,’ Max disagreed. ‘As far as they were concerned, I was intelligent with a stable background and parents who made sure I went to school, and did my homework to get good grades.’
‘What about talking about general growing-up issues?’
‘What issues?’ he asked flatly, echoing his parents’ attitude. ‘I was a kid—how could I possibly have issues?’
