"Of course he did."
"I told him it was a bad idea."
"Why?"
Michael's face tightened with shame.
"Because I thought the club was using him. I thought the project was too expensive. I thought he was chasing some perfect solution when insurance had already said no twice."
"The insurer hadn't said the chair was unnecessary."
"I know that now."
"You knew it then too."
He did not answer. I continued.
"You work construction. You know what it means when a tool doesn't fit the person using it."
"I know."
"Then why?"
Michael looked toward Ray, then back at me.
"Because I didn't trust him."
Ray's expression did not change. Michael continued.
"I saw the vest, the bikes, the shop. I decided I knew what kind of people they were. Daniel told me I was being an idiot. He was right."
I leaned against the counter because my knees felt unreliable.
"What did the voicemail say?"
Michael closed his eyes.
"I still have it."
That hurt almost more.
"You kept it?"
"I couldn't delete it."
"But you couldn't give it to me."
"I was ashamed."
Michael's voice cracked.
"After the crash, I kept hearing the part where he said I was wrong about Ray. I had spent the last week telling him the club was trouble. Then I saw Ray at the hospital covered in rain and dirt, and I knew he had been there trying to help. I knew Daniel had gone to the shop because of Maisie. But you were breaking apart in front of me, and when you looked at Ray with all that anger, I..."
He stopped.
"You what?"
"I let you have someone to blame."
The honesty was unbearable.
"Why?"