Michaels Mess - 10. Chapter 10

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Michael—after twenty years—had the nerve to come back, asking for forgiveness, as if all the damage he did to Sarah and Ryan could just vanish.

The muscles in my neck clenched as I thought about what he had done to Ryan–to all of us.

But it wasn’t even the apology that hit me the hardest. It was the way he said it. Like this was some grand, last-minute attempt to fix everything before it was too late. So now, after all this time, he thought he could just make it right? No. You don’t get to walk back into people’s lives like that, Michael. You don’t get to undo all the hurt you caused.

Did he even stop to think about everything he’d missed? What the hell had he been doing all these years? What kind of man just turns his back and lets that go?

I leaned back in the chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. I could feel the anger simmering in my chest, but it was mixed with something else too—something I hated. The tiniest hint of guilt, a question that kept rattling around in my head: Was he really sorry? Was he really dying? I didn’t know if I cared anymore.

He had shattered everything. Sarah’s heart. The kids’ sense of security. My trust. How was I supposed to just forgive him for that? How could anyone?

But damn it, when he said, “I’m dying,” I froze. Those words—like a gut punch. What was I supposed to do with that? Was it genuine? Or just another sympathy play to make me feel sorry for him? I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

I’d spent years picking up the pieces. Ryan and I, we’d rebuilt our lives. We worked hard for this—our peace. And now Michael thought he could come back and undo everything.

I slammed my fist against the table, the sound cutting through the silence. The nerve of him. After everything—everything—he thought he could just stroll back in like nothing had happened?

But then his voice—shaky, but firm—stopped me cold. “I’m dying.”

It wasn’t the sympathy that got to me. It was the reality of it. How much of that was true? How much was just more manipulation? I didn’t know. I didn’t know if I cared.

I didn’t owe him anything. But damn it, Michael had been a part of my life too. I couldn’t just act like it never happened. He could, but I couldn’t.

I shouldn’t have met him. I know that now. But it was too late. Now I had to make a decision. And the more I thought about it, the harder it became.

What was I supposed to do with this? What was I supposed to do with him?

When I got home, I went straight to Ryan and told him.

“Ryan. I met with Michael.”

“Michael… the guy from work?”

“No. Evans. Michael Evans.”

At the mention of his name, Ryan turned pale. The fear and confusion in his eyes said it all—this wasn’t something I could hide from him.

“But… he’s gone.”

I took a breath. “Yes, he’s gone, but apparently he’s dying. He wants to meet with Sarah and the kids.”

“Nate, no. He manipulated us—all of us. I don’t know about this. Why did you even agree to see him?”

“I don’t know, Ryan. I shouldn’t have. I told myself I’d say no on the phone, but curiosity got the better of me. And… he says he has cancer.”

“It’s another trick, Nate. You know how he is.”

“I know, but… I don’t think so.”

Ryan’s voice wavered. “Nate, you can’t. Are you actually going to talk to Sarah about this? About him?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I hate him for what he did to you, to all of us. I hate that he forgot about us for twenty years, then just decided to show up. I… I honestly don’t know what to do, Ryan.”

Ryan leaned in closer, trembling. The memories of what Michael had done—especially that threat at the summer house—were flooding back, and I felt a shiver run down my spine too. Yet seeing Michael again, part of me wanted to believe he’d changed. Or maybe I just needed to believe it.

I let out a slow breath, my thoughts tumbling over one another. What do I do? Part of me thinks Michael might have changed. Then again, maybe Ryan’s right. Maybe I should just tell Michael that Sarah doesn’t want to meet with him, that she asked me to keep him away from the kids. But doing that takes the choice away from her…

I rubbed my temples, overwhelmed. Why did you have to come back, Michael? Why did I have to talk to you? You’re already throwing our lives into chaos.

“What are you going to do, Nate?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I need to think about this.”

Ryan sat there, giving me the same look he had when he first told me what happened, back when he’d gone through hell and I’d been by his side for every step of the recovery. Everything he said made sense—deep down, I knew it did. But still… What if Michael’s telling the truth?

After a few restless days of debating, I finally picked up the phone to call Sarah. It only rang once before Roger answered.

“Hello?” His voice was warm, familiar, but there was a subtle edge to it—like he could sense something was wrong.

I swallowed hard. “Roger, it’s Nate. How are you?”

“Nate! Doing well. Where’ve you been? We haven’t seen you and Ryan in ages. Samantha’s swinging by this week with the baby. Hope you’ll come see your grandniece,” Roger said, his tone brightening.

I tried to sound casual, but my voice felt shaky. “We’ve been busy, but of course we want to see her. Actually… Ryan and I want to come by today, if you’re both free. I need to talk to you and Sarah.”

A second’s pause on the line. “You know you two are always welcome,” Roger replied, though his voice had turned a shade more serious. “Is everything all right? What’s going on?”

I hesitated. The gravity of it all stuck in my throat. “It’s probably better if we talk in person.”

Roger let out a low sigh. “That sounds ominous, but I understand. Come whenever. Sarah’s home, and Faith won’t be back till late—school and work. We’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks, Roger,” I murmured, ending the call.

Ryan, who’d been watching me, sat forward on the couch. “What did he say?”

I looked at him, my heart thudding. “They’re expecting us. I told him we’d be there soon.”

Ryan exhaled, crossing his arms. “You’re sure about this, Nate?”

“No,” I admitted. “But we have to let Sarah decide. This can’t be my choice or yours alone.”

Ryan’s gaze lingered on me, concern etched in his eyes. “All right. I just hope this doesn’t tear her apart again.”

We stood and gathered our jackets. The drive to Sarah and Roger’s place seemed too short. My thoughts spun the entire time—Michael’s gaunt face, his haunted expression, his claim about dying. By the time we pulled into their neat driveway, my stomach was in knots. Memories of the house Sarah once shared with Michael flickered before my eyes. It looked so peaceful—like the life she’d rebuilt with Roger. Yet a storm brewed beneath that calm façade.

I turned off the engine, and Ryan reached for my hand. “Whatever happens, we handle it together.”

I nodded, and we stepped out. When we rang the doorbell, Sarah answered almost immediately, a wide smile lighting her face. “Well, look who it is—my two favorite baby brothers!” She pulled us both into a tight hug before stepping back. “It’s about time you showed up. Where have you been hiding?”

Ryan forced a chuckle. “Work, life… you know how it goes.”

Sarah eyed us curiously, noticing our unease. She led us inside, through the familiar hallway. “I hope you’ll stay for dinner. Faith will be home by five.”

We followed her into the family room where Roger stood up from the couch, tablet in hand. As soon as he saw us, he reached out, hugging us both. “Good to see you two again. You’ve been missed. We were beginning to think you didn’t like us anymore.” His teasing grin faded as he caught sight of my troubled expression. “Everything okay?”

Ryan spoke first, his tone reassuring. “Just busy, Roger. Nothing personal. We’re here now, though, and we’re glad to see you.”

Roger gestured for us to sit. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, water?”

I shook my head, my pulse hammering. “No, we’re all right.”

Roger set his tablet aside and folded his arms. Sarah took a spot beside him, glancing between Ryan and me. I drew a breath, steeling myself.

“I got a call a few days ago,” I began, my voice wavering. “It was from Michael.”

Sarah blinked, the color in her cheeks fading slightly. “Michael?” she echoed softly.

“Yes,” I said, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “Michael Evans—that Michael.”

A heavy silence blanketed the room. Roger’s features darkened. He stood up abruptly, arms braced at his hips. “Nate, tell me this isn’t the same man we’ve talked about a hundred times.”

“It is.” My throat felt tight. “You know what he put us through—Ryan, Sarah. All of us.” continued Roger.

Roger’s jaw clenched, and he stared down at me. “Why bring him up now?”

I glanced at Ryan, who had gone pale. “He’s dying,” I said quietly. “That’s what he claims, anyway. Says he has cancer and wants to see Sarah and the kids.”

Roger raked a hand through his hair, eyes flashing. “You met with him?” His voice rose as if I’d just confessed a betrayal.

I looked down at my hands, nodding. “I did. It was a mistake, or maybe I just had to know. He seemed… changed. Like he really might be telling the truth.”

“What does he want, Nate?” Roger’s voice was taut.

I swallowed again. “He wants to meet with Sarah—and the kids, including Faith.”

Roger cursed under his breath and paced. “No. No way. Sarah’s been through hell once. I won’t let him drag her back in.”

Ryan nodded quickly. “I agree. This is a horrible idea. I’m not on board with any of us seeing him.”

Suddenly, Sarah spoke, her voice shaking but resolute. “I’ll meet him. Without the kids.”

Her words landed like a thunderclap. Roger and I stared at her in disbelief. Ryan simply looked stricken.

“Sarah?” My voice was almost a whisper. “Why would you want to see him?”

She inhaled slowly, tears shining in her eyes, but her posture remained firm. “Because I need closure. When he left, he took so much with him—my trust, my peace of mind. I want to face him. I want him to see that I survived.” She paused, glancing at Roger’s worried expression. “I’m not dragging the kids into this. Not yet. This is something I have to do alone.”

Roger reached for her hand, his protective nature warring with her determination. “Sarah, I don’t trust him. You’ve come so far.”

She turned toward Roger, her shoulders squared and her gaze steady. “I know. I do trust you, Roger. I just… need to end this, once and for all. He was the coward—he ran. He couldn’t face what he did. But I won’t be a coward. I refuse to let him control me. I’m going to face him.”

Ryan and I exchanged a look, haunted by the memories of Michael’s past manipulations. But the resolve in Sarah’s face was unwavering. A hush fell over us, thick with uncertainty. We all felt it: the deep pull of what was lost, and the fragile hope that maybe—just maybe—there was a way forward, even if that meant confronting the demons we’d rather leave buried.

“When?” asked Sarah, her voice calm but unyielding.

I took a breath, glancing at the phone in my hand. “I have to call him.”

Sarah folded her arms. “Call him now, Nate.”

Reluctantly, I dialed the number Michael had given me. After a couple of rings, a man answered.

“This is David,” he said, his tone polite but wary.

“This is Nate. Is Michael there?” I asked.

“Yes, one second, Nate—I’ll get him.”

His voice grew distant as he called out, “Michael, Nate is on the phone!”

Michael’s voice came over the line a moment later, breathy with anticipation. “Nate? Thanks for calling back. Did you talk to Sarah? What did she say?”

I glanced over at Sarah and Roger, who were both watching me intently. “She said yes—against everyone’s better judgment, I might add.”

Michael exhaled, relief evident in his voice. “Thank you, Nate. Could we meet at the park near the beach?”

I locked eyes with Sarah and Roger. They knew the park well—it had been part of Sarah’s old life with Michael, a place they used to take the kids. They both gave quick, solemn nods.

“Sure,” I said, “tomorrow at eleven.”

“We’ll be there. Thanks, Nate.”

Michael’s end of the line clicked off.

I lowered the phone, nerves swirling.

Sarah broke the silence first. “Who is David?”

My throat felt tight. “David is… Michael’s husband. He’s married now.”

A flicker of emotion flashed across Sarah’s face—surprise, maybe something like old hurt, or anger. Her lips parted as though she might say something, but instead, she inhaled, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin. In that moment, I glimpsed the resolute, unbreakable Sarah I’d always known.

“Married,” she said slowly, testing the word. Her gaze flicked away before settling on me again. “Well, I guess he really did move on.”

Roger’s jaw tightened, but he stayed quiet, letting Sarah speak for herself. She looked at him, then back at me, her expression firm.

“It doesn’t matter if he got married or joined a monastery,” she said, voice steady. “He ran from his mistakes and left all of us to deal with the mess he made. But now I get the final say—I’m not letting him dictate my life anymore. I just need to see him face to face.”

A rush of relief and worry warred inside me. She had changed, grown stronger. Even so, the memories of what Michael once did to us all felt like a warning bell ringing in my mind.

“You’re sure, Sarah?” I asked, unable to keep the concern from my voice. “You still want to do this?”

She gave me a small, tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure. I’ve got you, Ryan, and Roger. I’m not alone this time. And I won’t be broken by whatever he says—he lost that power over me a long time ago.”

She glanced at Roger, who took her hand. They exchanged a look that spoke volumes—respect, love, a shared determination to protect each other.

And in that moment, I realized Michael might have come back to a very different Sarah than the one he walked out on.

I glanced at her, still a little worried. “And the kids? Are you going to tell them?”

Sarah nodded, determination flickering in her eyes. “Yes. I’ll explain the situation, but the choice to see him or not is theirs.”

I swallowed hard, remembering the damage Michael had caused. “Okay… so, the park tomorrow at eleven?”

She met my gaze, her tone unwavering. “Yes and no. I’ll be there, but I want to meet him privately. You can come, but stay back—I need to face him on my own. I’m not the person he walked out on, and I refuse to be treated like I’m weak. I want him to see who I’ve become.”

Her spine was rigid with conviction, and I felt a surge of pride. That’s my sister.