Tease Me, Sir [Completed]

Chapter 8: Fractured Lines

Maxine stared at her phone, the screen still lit from the call that had just ended. Her thumb hovered over Noah's name, as if some irrational part of her expected him to call again.

But he wouldn't.

Not this time.

She exhaled sharply, tossing the phone onto her nightstand before falling back onto her bed. The weight of the conversation pressed against her chest, heavy and suffocating. She should feel relieved, shouldn't she? He'd given her closure—or at least, his version of it.

Then why did it feel like nothing had changed?

Because deep down, a voice whispered, you wanted him to fight harder.

Maxine squeezed her eyes shut, willing the thought away. No. She needed him to stay gone. She needed to forget the way his voice had sounded—rough, desperate, real.

A soft knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Max?" Grace's voice was cautious. "I know you said you didn't want to talk about it, but... you've been staring at the ceiling for twenty minutes, and frankly, that's kind of terrifying."

Maxine sighed. "I'm fine, Grace."

"Yeah, see, that's exactly what someone not fine would say."

The door creaked open, and Grace stepped inside, arms crossed. Her expression was unreadable—curious, concerned. "I just—" She hesitated before sitting at the edge of the bed. "I don't get it. If this guy really hurt you, why does it look like you're the one falling apart?"

Maxine opened her mouth, then closed it.

How could she explain that the wounds Noah had left weren't fresh, but reopened? That she had spent years convincing herself she had moved on—only for him to rip the scab off with a few words?

She swallowed. "Because it's complicated."

Grace scoffed. "Clearly."

Maxine let out a bitter chuckle. "He told me why he left."

Grace's brows lifted. "And?"

"And it doesn't change anything," she said, though even to her own ears, the words rang hollow.

Grace studied her. "But do you believe him?"

Maxine hesitated.

Did she?

Grace watched her, waiting. Maxine could feel the weight of the question settle between them, thick and suffocating.

Did she believe Noah?

She wanted to say no. She wanted to hold onto her anger, to the years of resentment she had carefully built like armor. But the problem was... she had seen it. In his eyes, in the way his voice wavered.

Pain. Regret.

And something far more dangerous—something that had made her chest tighten and her resolve waver.

Truth.

Maxine sighed, dragging a hand down her face. "I don't know."

Grace gave her a long, considering look. "That's not a no."

Maxine groaned. "Grace—"

"I'm just saying," Grace interrupted, leaning back on her elbows. "If he was lying, wouldn't it be easier to say so? Wouldn't it be easier to hate him?"

Yes. It would be. But nothing about Noah Castellano had ever been easy.

Maxine turned on her side, facing the wall. "It doesn't matter."

Grace sighed. "Max—"

"No," she said firmly, staring at the cracks in the paint like they held all the answers. "Even if he's telling the truth, it doesn't erase what happened. It doesn't change the fact that he still left me."

Silence settled between them.

Grace let out a slow breath. "Okay. Fine. But let me ask you this—if he hadn't left, if he had fought for you... do you think things would've been different?"

The question knocked the air out of her lungs.

Would they?

Maxine clenched her jaw. "It doesn't matter," she said again, forcing the words out. "Because he didn't fight for me. He left. And I learned to live without him."

Grace didn't argue this time. Instead, she stood, stretching her arms over her head. "Alright. If that's what you've decided."

Maxine frowned, wary of her sudden shift in tone. "What?"

Grace smirked. "Nothing. I'm just saying... if you're so over it, then it shouldn't bother you that he's back."

Maxine's stomach twisted.

She hated how easily Grace saw through her.

"I need coffee," Maxine muttered, shoving the blanket off and standing up.

Grace chuckled. "Avoidance. Classic Max move."

Maxine shot her a glare but didn't deny it.

Because the truth was, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise...

Noah Castellano still had a hold on her.

And she hated it. Did she?

The kitchen was quiet except for the steady hum of the coffee machine. Maxine leaned against the counter, arms crossed as she watched the dark liquid fill her mug. She needed caffeine. She needed something to jolt her back to reality, to wash away the lingering traces of Noah's voice in her head.

Grace plopped onto a stool, propping her chin on her hands. "So, what's the plan?"

Maxine frowned. "What plan?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "The 'how to permanently erase him from my life' plan."

Maxine exhaled sharply, grabbing her mug and taking a sip. "I don't need a plan. He's not part of my life anymore."

Grace arched a brow. "Uh-huh. Sure. Which is why you've been brooding since he left."

"I am not brooding."

Grace gave her a look.

Maxine scowled. "I just... I need space. He'll get bored eventually and leave."

Grace snorted. "Yeah, because a guy who made five phone calls in a row seems like someone who gives up easily."

Maxine's grip tightened around her mug. "What do you want me to say, Grace? That I still feel something? That I don't know how to deal with it?" Her voice rose, frustration seeping in. "Because I don't. I don't know what to do with this—this mess he's made just by showing up again."

Grace's expression softened. "Max..."

Maxine set the mug down, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. "I don't want to feel anything for him. I don't want to care."

"But you do."

The words hung in the air, undeniable.

Maxine swallowed hard. "It doesn't change anything."

Grace studied her for a moment, then sighed. "Okay. Fine. You don't care. You want him gone. So what are you gonna do when you see him again?"

Maxine stilled.

Grace tilted her head. "Because let's be real—he's not done with you. And something tells me you're not done with him either."

Maxine clenched her jaw. "I am done."

"Then prove it," Grace challenged. "Tell me what happens next time he shows up."

Maxine opened her mouth—then closed it.

Because she didn't know.

She could tell herself she'd walk away, pretend he didn't exist. She could tell herself she'd slam the door in his face if he tried to talk to her again.

But deep down, she wasn't sure if she was capable of it.

And that terrified her.

Grace sighed. "Max, I'm not saying you should forgive him. I'm not saying you should even give him the time of day. But maybe—just maybe—you should figure out what you actually want before you push him away for good."

Maxine gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white. She needed to say it. To rip off the bandage and let Grace remind her why none of this mattered. Why Noah Castellano could never be part of her life again.

She took a breath, steadying herself. "He's married."

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, like a truth she had swallowed too many times but never fully accepted.

Grace, who had been mid-sip of her coffee, choked. "What?"

Maxine didn't flinch. "You heard me."

Grace slammed her mug down. "What do you mean he's married?!"

Maxine exhaled, crossing her arms tightly. "Angel Guerrero. The woman his family wanted him to marry? He did."

Grace gaped at her like she'd just confessed to murder. "Hold on—hold on." She held up a hand, as if trying to physically stop the whirlwind of information from hitting her all at once. "You're telling me that this guy—who, by the way, was devouring you with his eyes when I walked in—is married?"

Maxine swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Yes."

"And he kissed you?!"

Maxine stiffened. "Yes."

Grace threw her hands up. "Oh my God, Max! You let him?"

A surge of frustration bubbled up in Maxine's chest. "I didn't know at first! I already told him to stay away."

Grace groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "And yet, here we are! You're spiraling, drinking your third cup of coffee, and I just walked into some kind of romance-novel-level tension between you two. What is happening?"

Maxine set her jaw. "Nothing is happening."

Grace shot her a flat look. "Girl. I love you, but that is a damn lie."

Silence stretched between them.

Maxine stared at the counter, her nails digging into her palms. "It doesn't matter, Grace. He made his choice years ago. And now, I have to live with it."

Grace studied her for a long moment, then sighed. "Okay."

Maxine's brows furrowed. "Okay?"

Grace shrugged. "Okay, if that's what you want. If you're done, you're done."

Something in Maxine's chest twisted.

Because wasn't that exactly what she'd been telling herself?

That she was done? That she didn't care?

Then why did it feel like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else?

Maxine barely slept that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—the way his storm-gray eyes darkened when he looked at her, the rough edge in his voice when he said her name. She told herself she was being ridiculous. She should be furious. She was furious.

And yet, the moment she woke up, her first instinct was to check her phone.

Nothing.

Good.

She shoved the device under her pillow and forced herself out of bed, ignoring the heaviness in her chest. She had things to do. A life to focus on. Noah Castellano had already taken too much of her past. She wouldn't let him steal her present.

By the time she stepped into the kitchen, Grace was already there, sipping coffee and scrolling through her phone. Her friend looked up when she saw her, raising an eyebrow.

"You look terrible."

"Thanks," Maxine muttered, opening the fridge.

Grace watched her for a beat, then sighed. "So, what's the plan?"

Maxine grabbed a bottle of water and shut the fridge door a little too hard. "What plan?"

"The 'getting over the married ex who just waltzed back into your life and kissed you like he forgot he had a wife' plan."

Maxine rolled her eyes. "I don't need a plan. I just need to keep doing what I've been doing."

Grace gave her a look. "Which is?"

"Living my life. Moving on."

Grace snorted. "Oh yeah? And how's that working out for you?"

Maxine glared at her, but Grace only shrugged. "I'm just saying, you might say you're over him, but the way you're acting? Girl, you're anything but."

Maxine took a slow sip of her water, choosing her words carefully. "I don't care about Noah anymore."

Grace stared at her. "Mm-hmm."

"I don't."

"Sure."

Maxine scowled. "Would you stop that?"

"Stop what?" Grace said innocently, setting down her coffee. "Pointing out that you're lying to yourself?"

"I'm not lying."

Grace leaned forward. "Max, if you didn't care, you wouldn't have looked like you saw a ghost when I walked in last night. You wouldn't have spent the entire evening brooding. And you sure as hell wouldn't have checked your phone the second you woke up."

Maxine's lips parted in protest, but Grace smirked. "Yeah. I saw that."

Heat crept up Maxine's neck. "I was checking the time."

Grace snorted. "Uh-huh."

Maxine groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Can we not do this right now?"

Grace held up her hands. "Fine. I'll drop it."

Maxine exhaled in relief.

"For now."

She groaned again.

Grace laughed, standing up and stretching. "Anyway, I'm heading out. Try not to overthink yourself into oblivion while I'm gone."

Maxine shot her a glare. "I'm not overthinking."

Grace just winked. "Keep telling yourself that."

With that, she grabbed her keys and headed for the door, leaving Maxine alone with her thoughts.

And damn it, Grace was right.

She was overthinking.

And no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, one truth kept echoing in her head.

She had spent years convincing herself she had moved on.

But if that were true...

Why did it feel like Noah Castellano had never really left?