That stopped him.
"I haven't lied."
"You let her think I caused his death."
"You were the last person with him."
"So were paramedics. You blaming them too?"
Michael looked away. Ray stepped closer, not threatening, just unwilling to let the subject move.
"Did you tell her about the voicemail?"
No answer.
"Mike."
"It wouldn't help."
"Did you tell her?"
"No."
"Did you tell her he asked you to help with the project before he ever came to me?"
Michael's face reddened. "No."
"Did you tell her I tried to give you his letter after the funeral?"
"She didn't need that then."
Ray's voice dropped. "That wasn't your decision." Michael slammed one palm onto a workbench.
"My sister had just lost her husband. My niece had lost her father. You were standing there in that vest, talking about promises and projects like any of it mattered."
Ray did not flinch.
"It mattered to Daniel."
"Daniel was dead."
"Exactly."
The word landed hard. Ray pointed toward the shop office.
"That's why promises matter. People die before they're ready. They leave things unfinished. The rest of us decide whether their word dies too."
Michael's anger faltered. Ray continued. "You were ashamed because you told him no."
"Don't."
"You thought I was trash. You thought the club was trash. Then your brother-in-law trusted us with something you were too proud to touch. After he died, it was easier for you if Sarah hated me instead of asking what you knew."
Michael stepped forward. "You don't know what I felt."
"Then tell her."
He could not. Ray shook his head.
"I'm delivering the chair on her birthday. Rebecca will be there. The clinical paperwork will be there. Daniel's letter will be there. Sarah can throw me out after that if she wants."
Michael stared at him.