Maximum Dare

by Fewings, Vanessa

  “I was just telling Daisy how happy I am that you came to your senses,” said Max. “You’re a very lucky young man.”

  Nick hobbled closer. “Come get in the photos with us, Max.”

  “I have to answer this.” He raised his phone. “Work always comes first with me. You know that.”

  “I’m glad you’re finally following your dream to practice civil rights law.” Nick gave his shoulder a manly slap. “It’s what you were born for.”

  I gazed at Max with tear-filled eyes, willing him to tell Nick the truth and admit we were in love.

  He turned to Nick. “You’ve been through so much. Daisy really is the silver lining for you. You’re a lucky bastard.”

  “I know, right?” Nick’s eyes crinkled with happiness.

  Max didn’t have the heart to tell him.

  He’d always put his brother first…

  But surely, I meant more. Surely, I was worth it.

  Max raised his phone in the air. “Reception is useless. Excuse me, I have to step outside.”

  My throat tightened as I watched him go.

  Nick was watching me. “You really like him, don’t you?”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  “He’s quite protective of you. He made me swear I wouldn’t fuck things up with you again, Daisy. I promised him I’d take good care of you.”

  I stared at Nick. “When did you talk with him?”

  “After you arrived. You were chatting with Mum. I told him the truth…that for a while there I’d been depressed and not sure if I could go on. Told him the way you fought for me proved how much you love me.”

  I did love you…once.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “I know you must be feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

  “I don’t want to live with you,” I burst out.

  “We can take it slow. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

  “I have to go.” I hurried out, turning right and heading toward the front door, assuming Max had gone that way.

  Standing on the front steps of the manor, I peered into the darkness, panic piercing my heart when I saw that his car was gone.

  I could hear it speeding down the driveway toward the gate.

  Clutching the hem of my dress, I kicked off my high heels and bolted after Max, hoping he would look in his rearview mirror and see me…hoping he would stop. I wanted to climb back into his car and go home with him.

  The gates swung open and Max’s Tesla sped through them.

  Out of breath, my chest tight with dread, I walked back to the house. I retrieved my shoes and slid them on, taking a few seconds to look at that intimidating door I would soon have to walk through, returning to their world alone.

  I hated the thought that I would have to rely on Nick to take me home.

  I entered the mansion, keeping my head low so I didn’t have to look anyone in the eye.

  Gillian met me in the foyer. “Is he gone?”

  I nodded, and met her gaze.

  She gave me a thin smile. “Max didn’t say goodbye.”

  The void he had left behind felt like a black hole, sucking all the oxygen and joy from the world. The cold air wafting in from the open door chilled my bones.

  Gillian stepped forward and closed the door. “It’s for the best.”

  “You don’t really believe that?”

  “Daisy, Nick needs you now more than ever.”

  I sighed. “I still care about Nick, but I’ll never stop loving his brother.”

  “It’s over.” She gave an elegant shrug. “He’s gone.”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  “He’ll be fine. Have you seen Brazilian women? They are incomparable.”

  “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “My youngest son needs you more. Don’t let him down.”

  “You’ve always preferred Nick.”

  “Max is the strong one. The wise one. The one who can look after himself. Max doesn’t do love. Not even with me.”

  “That isn’t true. He adores you.”

  “Deep down he hates me for what I did to him.”

  “You’re wrong. He’s forgiven you.”

  “You have no right to express any opinions about my family.”

  “Max and I—”

  She gripped my arm. “You’re a passing infatuation. Nothing more.”

  “Let go of me.”

  Her hand slipped to her side. “Do the right thing.”

  “That’s just it, Gillian. Max has done the right thing. Again. He’s put himself last. He’s stepped away so that everyone else can be happy at his expense. When are you going to let him have his happiness?”

  “There you are—” She looked down the hallway at Nick, who was coming toward us. “Nick, dear, we were just talking about you.”

  “I thought I’d get some fresh air.” He nudged up beside me. “Daisy, want to come with me? We can sit by the pool.” He gave me a mischievous wink. “I promise to hold onto your hand so you don’t fall in.”

  “She’d love to.” Gillian’s glare let me know she insisted I go with him.

  She had long ago put aside her conflicted emotions and done the wrong thing.

  And now she was asking the same from me.

  Growing up with a football legend—David Banham, Nick’s dad—you soon learn how obsessed British fans are. They attend every match, whether at home or away, proudly wearing their colors and buying all the team merchandise.

  Take Manchester United, for example. Their emblem is a red and yellow crest featuring a devil with a trident. It’s easily distinguishable from the bright colors of Liverpool F.C., which stand out at a game, the blood red shade that marks their passion. The fans wear this coat of arms with pride.

  Having popped into a store that sells tourist memorabilia, I’d purchased a nice-looking scarf with Manchester United’s team colors.

  Of course, I’d have to be crazy to walk into the Spread Eagle Pub with this item on display while a game was going on between Liverpool and Manchester, broadcast in high definition on all of the wall-mounted big-screen TVs.

  Especially since the only fans in the place were here supporting one team—Liverpool. The rowdy lot, predominantly men who were trying to drink the barman dry, didn’t even notice me entering. And they wouldn’t see the offensive scarf tucked inside my coat pocket.

  “I’ll have a beer,” I told the bartender.

  While sipping my drink—which would have tasted better chilled—I took my time scanning the crowd for Hugo White, the asshole who may have destroyed my brother’s career.

  There was still hope that Nick would make a full recovery. The doctors were optimistic, and so were we. But the damage done was potentially catastrophic. Hugo had known what he was doing that night. Even with alcohol on board, he should have had better control.

  And there he was, sitting at a table in the center of the pub drinking his beer. He was of medium build, handsome in a way, though his jaw was too square and his eyes were too close together. His lips formed a too-thin line, showing the bitterness of man who believed the world owed him.

  All eyes in the pub were on the TV screens. Liverpool was winning. Everyone in the place was happy.

  Except me, of course.

  Hugo had caused more devastation than he’d ever know. Not only had he attacked Nick, he’d kicked my brother when he was down. Seriously injuring an exemplary sportsman.

  The fallout from that incident outside this pub had reached me and Daisy, destroying everything we could have had together. Hugo had set my brother back in more ways than just his health. He’d weakened Nick’s resolve. He’d taken a swing at his ego and come out the victor.

  I nonchalantly walked behind Hugo, my hand inside my coat pocket gripping the scarf, casually sipping my drink.

  Hugo’s coat hung on the back of his chair and slung on top of it was his fan-boy Liverpool scarf.

  Liverpool scored again and everyone roared.

  Actin
g like a long-time fan, I raised my drink in a salute.

  Hugo had jumped up to applaud, causing his scarf to fall off his coat onto the floor. I kicked it under the table. Reaching into my pocket, I drew out the Man United scarf and laid it over the back of his chair.

  Then I returned to the bar to watch the rest of the game. Those players really knew how to protect the goal, how to forge ahead and score, how to help an opponent up after he’d fallen in true sportsmanlike behavior—pity none of that had rubbed off on Hugo.

  With the match over, the place erupted in wild cries from the winning side.

  I strolled toward the exit, feeling justified in my quest for justice.

  Outside, sitting at a table surrounded by sycophants, I saw her.

  I strode toward her, all smiles. “Morgan, how are you?”

  From her expression, I could tell that being confronted by the big brother of her ex was not how she’d thought her afternoon was going to go.

  At her stony-faced response, I asked, “Nick is doing much better, thank you for asking. He’s looking forward to starting physical therapy.”

  “Good.” She gave a nod as though she cared.

  “And how have you been?” I peered past her through the pub’s window and saw Hugo put on his coat, wrapping the Man United scarf around his neck.

  “I’m coping,” she said with the quietness of the guilty.

  I saw another man push Hugo, saw them arguing, and to my utter surprise, a fight broke out.

  “There’s your boyfriend,” I said with forced brightness, pointing at the pub’s window. “Always causing trouble wherever he goes.” I stared down at her. “At least this won’t be on your Facebook or Instagram page, since they’ve been taken down permanently.”

  Morgan looked up at me in disbelief and then whipped out her phone. For an attorney with friends in high places, getting a Facebook or an Instagram page pulled is as easy as it sounds. One phone call was all it had taken to erase Morgan’s social media presence.

  It was a small gesture, but it might help another unfortunate victim who was being led by his ego—a potential boyfriend who wanted to be seen with an Internet star.

  That shit was over.

  Morgan looked dumbfounded.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me.” I gave a nod and walked off toward my SUV.

  When I climbed into the backseat, Carl turned around to look at me. “We should make Heathrow in good time, sir.”

  “Thank you, Carl.” I sat back and pulled out my phone, turning it off to keep myself from calling Daisy. All I wanted was to hear her voice. My heart ached to say the words I should have told her before I’d walked away.

  I wanted to turn this car around and find her.

  “Advise my mother that my phone died,” I said.

  “I can charge it for you, sir, on the console.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I said, wanting to get out of London as quickly as possible.

  Because Daisy lived in this city—and I didn’t trust myself to stay away from her.

  “Welcome, Dare Club Members!” Ted stood on a chair at the front of the bar so he could see us all, peering down with the kind of respect usually reserved for heroes.

  We’d gathered in the bar at the Waldorf Hotel, where it had all begun, taking advantage of the plush seats, flowing beverages, and endless supply of crisps and dips.

  This was it—we’d proven to ourselves we could push our limits past what we thought possible. I’d watched my friends overcome their mental roadblocks, seen them make decisions that would change their lives.

  I tried to focus on what people were saying around me, engage in conversation and ignore the fact that my mind and body felt numb.

  Max was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

  I hadn’t wanted to come to the meeting tonight.

  Ted had insisted that being here was all about supporting our teammates and celebrating their breakthroughs. He was right, of course.

  His speech was inspiring, and he teared up when telling us how proud he was of our accomplishments. He invited us all to move forward in life with what we’d learned, with our newfound courage. Our life coach had given us the tools we needed to chase our dreams.

  Returning to university and finishing that degree seemed like a real possibility for me now. I felt an eagerness to see myself the way Max sees me. He’d given me more than affection…he’d given me a way forward, too.

  Ted sat beside me. “How are you, Daisy? You’re a bit quiet.”

  “I’m glad I completed each dare,” I said.

  “Bet you never expected to tackle an Army assault course.” He laughed.

  “I’m still aching.”

  “I always knew you had it in you.”

  Yesterday, we’d all met up in Beare Green where we’d tested our fitness and been put through our paces like military recruits. Most of all, we’d laughed our way over each obstacle. I was feeling sad that it was over, as this was our last dare, but all of us were still hungry for more adventure, which was the point, I suppose. We all promised to keep in touch.

  “Keep doing what you’re doing, Ted,” I told him. “You’re changing lives. Giving people the courage to make big life choices.”

  “That courage was always inside you, Daisy, just waiting for you to tap into it.”

  “I’m willing to believe that now.”

  “I’m glad.” He pushed to his feet, peering over toward the door. “That guy’s familiar. Do you know him? He keeps staring at you.”

  I followed Ted’s line of sight, and swallowed hard.

  “That’s Nick Banham,” he said in awe.

  I hurried over to greet Nick. “What are you doing here?”

  “Didn’t want to miss your big night.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “My girl’s graduating from the Dare Club. Of course, I want to be here.”

  When he reached for my hand, I pulled away. His gaze narrowed as he processed my need to take things slow.

  I wasn’t ready for any show of affection. I needed more time. I felt like I was betraying Max, even though we were over now.

  Within minutes, a crowd had gathered around us, football fans who had recognized Nick. Ted was beside himself, acting like the biggest fan boy, throwing me glances that said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I let Nick have the limelight. It took the pressure off me. I sat sipping my white wine quietly in an armchair.

  On the back wall, the Dare Club’s logo lit up a big-screen TV. It was a man’s silhouette taking a leap off a cliff.

  “What’s that?” I asked Ted.

  “We’ve put together a montage filmed during the dares.” He nodded toward the screen. “This should be fun.”

  There came a continuous flow of images, edited with dramatic music as a backdrop to our adventures, as the team members moved through each dare.

  There was me sliding down the glass chute, me heading in for a night of ghost hunting, sharing my feelings on Instagram about my challenge being thwarted by the swimming pool incident. And then there I was dressed as a clown.

  I put my hands over my eyes when that segment came on.

  The last dare saw me elbow-deep in dirt as I dragged my body along a ditch and then clambered over a wall. I crawled under a barbed wire with my face covered in smudges of green camouflage.

  Everyone featured in the footage cheered when they saw themselves. The images rotated to show each dare, coming back around to me and Max…

  Both of us stood side by side atop The Shard. The chemistry between us was more pronounced than I’d realized. The footage had been filmed when neither of us had known the cameras were on us. It showed the affectionate glances we’d shared, those quiet moments where we touched hands, our fingers intertwining.

  Nick had taken a seat to watch the montage. Now he pushed himself up out of the chair and grabbed his crutches.

  I rushed after him as he hobbled towards the door.

  Whe
n I caught up, he shot me an annoyed look. “It just kind of happened, I take it?”

  “You were with Morgan.”

  “Daisy, do you love him?”

  “We’ve only known each other a few weeks. But he made me feel like I was worthy of happiness.”

  Nick sneered. “So very Max.”

  “I love him,” I blurted out. “I do.”

  “And you felt like keeping it a secret?”

  “I was waiting for the right time to tell you,” I said hoarsely.

  “He left that night without saying goodbye, remember?” He let out a harsh laugh. “He didn’t even look back.”

  “He did that for you,” I said softly.

  Nick’s expression turned sad. “You and me, we’re only good for each other when someone dies.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  He headed toward the doorway, pausing when he got there to stare back at the TV screen, nodding at it so I’d turn and look at the footage they were showing.

  There it was, me sitting astride Max after I’d shot out of the glass chute, having landed on top of him. What followed was that spontaneous kiss I’d shared with Max Marquis as he lay beneath me, our passion devastatingly real.

  There was nothing more to say.

  That kiss told the beautiful truth.

  A shiver ran through me as I watched Nick leave.

  Being at work was stifling, with every task seemingly five times more tedious. I’d dragged myself around the showroom all day greeting guests, forcing myself to smile whenever a customer came in, trying to act cheerful when they wanted to try on a dress.

  But I couldn’t shake this heartache.

  Losing Max had been worse than losing Nick, or my home, or the life I’d known.

  I recalled Max’s expression at the party a week ago, as he looked at me and Nick standing side by side in the kitchen—and now I saw it through a new perspective.

  Max had ended our relationship earlier that night for Nick’s sake, and yet he’d remained by my side. Even then he’d been strong.

  Not being able to talk with him was the hardest thing I’d ever experienced. That text Max had sent me saying we should catch up next month was his way of distancing himself.