8. Michael
CHAPTER EIGHT
MICHAEL
I woke up on a soft carpeted floor. For a moment, I couldn't tell where I was.
It wasn’t the cold concrete floor of my cell or the comfort of Doyle’s bedroom.
Slowly, I sat up, looking uncomprehendingly at the posters of my old favorite rock bands on the walls. Right, this was my bedroom.
Last night, I tried sleeping on the bed, but I kept tossing and turning, wishing for Doyle's muscled and solid presence next to me.
In the end, I ended up sleeping on the floor—not that there was much sleep. I doubted the nightmares would go away soon either.
It was Liliana's sinister smile I kept picturing, her long nails on my skin, the other prisoners screaming in the background.
The screaming never seemed to stop.
Sighing, I stood up, stretching, and took in my new reality.
I reminded myself how thankful I was to no longer be living in a tiny cage, but to finally be back here, in my old house.
Wasn't this what I always dreamed of, the only thing I held onto while I was a captive?
So why did it feel like something... or someone was missing?
I walked over to the window and looked out at the familiar street. The sun was just rising, casting a golden glow over the neighborhood.
Everything seemed so normal, so mundane. But I felt like a stranger in my own life.
My thoughts drifted back to Doyle. I missed him so much it hurt.
I missed his protectiveness, his gentle understanding. I missed the way he made me feel safe.
I shook my head, trying to dispel the memories. What I needed to do was focus on the present.
I needed to reintegrate into my old life. But how could I, when my mind kept drifting back to Doyle?
I decided to go downstairs. Maybe some breakfast would help clear my head.
As I walked through the house, I noticed once again how little had changed.
My dad had kept everything just as it was, like a shrine to the life I once had.
It should have been comforting, but it only made me feel more out of place.
In the kitchen, I found my dad already up, sipping coffee at the table. He looked up and smiled when he saw me.
"Morning, Michael," he said.
"Morning," I replied, forcing a smile. "Did you sleep well?"
He nodded. "How about you?"
I hesitated. "Not really. It's... strange being back,” I admitted.
He nodded again, his expression understanding.
"I can only imagine,” he said.
We fell into an awkward silence, the unspoken weight of the past five years hanging between us.
I could see the pain and worry in his eyes, the same pain and worry I felt.
"I miss Doyle," I blurted out, surprising myself with the admission.
My dad looked at me, his expression softening.
"It's okay to miss him, Michael. He was there for you when I couldn't be,” he said.
I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat.
"I just... I don't know how to move on from everything that happened,” I said.
“It’s okay, Michael. You don't have to do it alone," he said gently. “I’m here for you.”
I managed a small smile. "Thanks, Dad,” I said.
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You’re strong, Michael. You’ll get through this, I promise,” he said.
I was about to grab another cup of coffee, when my dad spoke again, "Oh, right, I hope you don't mind, but I arranged a little get-together tonight. A welcome back party for you.”
Panic must've shown on my face, because he quickly added, "Don't worry, it's a small gathering, just Stan and the others. And of course, Billy, Frank, and Joel, your old friends."
My mind blanked for a second, and to my embarrassment, I couldn't recall any of the names he mentioned.
Just picturing myself in a crowd of people I used to know made my palms sweat and my heart race.
Stan was Dad's best friend from work. He worked at a car repair shop since I was a kid and was close to everyone there.
Billy, Frank, and Joel were the guys I used to hang out with at school.
They made high school tolerable, but... I doubted I had anything in common with them now.
"It'll be fun. Stan and I will fire up the grill; he said he'll bring some ribeyes," my dad said, sounding excited.
I opened my mouth to refuse, to beg him to cancel, but then I saw the dark circles under his eyes, his thinning hair.
The past five years had been rough on him, that was clear as day to anyone.
If this little party could make him happy, then why couldn't I endure one night with the people who... cared about us both?
"Sure, Dad," I said, forcing a smile. "It sounds great."
He beamed at me, and I could see the relief in his eyes.
"Great! It'll be just like old times,” he said.
But it wouldn't be like old times. I wasn't the same person anymore.
The thought of facing these people, pretending everything was fine, filled me with dread.
What if they noticed how different I was? What if they asked questions I couldn't answer?
The day passed in a blur of anxiety and preparation.
My dad had taken the day off from work. He bustled around the house, cleaning and setting up for the party.
I tried to help, but my mind kept wandering back to Doyle.
I wished he were here with me, his steady presence a calming anchor.
As evening approached, I retreated to my room, trying to steady my nerves. I paced back and forth, my thoughts racing.
What would I say to my old friends? How would I explain what I’ve gone through, my changed behaviour?
The sound of the doorbell jolted me out of my thoughts. I took a deep breath and forced myself to walk downstairs.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw my dad opening the door to Stan, a burly bear shifter with a warm smile.
"Hey, buddy!" Stan greeted me, pulling me into a bear hug.
I stiffened, but managed to pat him on the back.
"Hey, Stan," I said, my voice shaky.
Stan pulled back, looking me over.
"You look good, kid. We've missed you,” Stan said.
"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling awkward under his scrutiny.
Soon, the house was filled with people, laughter, and the smell of grilling meat.
I tried to engage in conversations, but my mind kept drifting.
Every time someone asked how I was doing, I gave a vague answer and quickly changed the subject.
Billy, Frank, and Joel were the hardest. They bombarded me with questions, reminiscing about high school and all the fun times we had.
I forced myself to laugh along, but inside, I felt like an imposter.
"Remember that time we snuck into the old factory?" Joel asked, grinning.
I nodded, but the memory felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.
"Yeah, that was wild,” I said.
Billy clapped me on the shoulder.
"We're glad to have you back, man. We missed you,” he said. “Hey, you should come by the house sometime. Meet the wife and kids.”
"Thanks," I said, my smile feeling strained. “And uh, thanks for the invitation. I’ll think about it.”
In five years, my friends had gone to college, married, had kids while mine was at a standstill.
As the night wore on, I felt more and more like a caged animal.
The walls seemed to close in on me, the noise overwhelming. I excused myself and slipped outside, the cool night air a welcome relief.
I leaned against the porch railing, taking deep breaths. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions.
I missed Doyle more than ever, his absence a hollow ache in my chest. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, hoping for a message from Doyle.
Instead, it was a photo from my dad, taken during the party. We looked happy, surrounded by friends. But I knew the truth.
I couldn't keep pretending. I needed to talk to Doyle, to hear his voice, to feel grounded again.
With shaking hands, I dialed his number.
"Michael?" Doyle's voice was warm, concerned.
"Doyle, I... I need to hear your voice," I said, my voice breaking.
"I'm here, Michael. What's wrong?" Doyle asked.
I took a deep breath, feeling the tears well up. “I thought I could pretend to be normal for one night everything’s fine, but it feels so wrong. I feel like a stranger in my own life. I miss you,” I blurted out those words without thinking.
"I miss you too," Doyle said softly.
"Can you stay on the line? Just for a little while?" I asked, feeling vulnerable.
"Of course," he said. "I'll stay as long as you need."
I calmed down a little as Doyle told me about the recent shenanigans Ariel and Porter had gotten into.
"When Zane finally questioned them, Ariel admitted to shifting into her dragon form to fly into Mrs. Lee's kitchen to steal her cookies," Doyle finished.
I couldn't help but laugh as I pictured the devious little girl and her brother.
"Do you feel a little better now?" Doyle asked.
"Yeah," I admitted. "Sorry I called out of the blue."
"You can call me anytime," Doyle said, his words warming my heart. "So, are you ready to return to the party?"
"I don't want to," I whispered in a small voice. "If you ask me what I truly want..." I trailed off, realizing how spoiled and selfish I was about to sound.
"What do you want, Michael?" Doyle asked.
"You coming here and taking me away, even for a few hours," were the words I wanted to say.
"Michael? What are you doing out here?" interrupted a voice. My dad.
"I've got to go," I told Doyle. "Can I... call you again?"
"Of course. Good night, Michael."
"Good night, Doyle." I ended the call and faced my dad, only to see him frowning at me.
"You were out here talking to Doyle instead of spending time with your family and friends?" my dad asked.
I couldn’t stand the look of disappointment on his face.
Anger uncoiled inside me. This was your idea, I wanted to yell at him for no apparent reason.
I bit my lower lip, restraining myself as I remembered the last argument we had after my graduation.
The last time I ever saw my dad again.
"Michael," my dad said, softening. "I get you miss Doyle. He rescued you, after all, but you shouldn't get attached to him."
"Why not?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"You need to focus on getting back to your old life, on healing. You can't do that if you're constantly clinging to the past,” he said.
Do you even know what you’re talking about? I thought angrily, forcing myself to calm down and put myself in his shoes.
He was just trying to protect me, even if he didn't fully understand.
"Dad," I said, my frustration bubbling up. “Doyle understands what I've been through."
"But he's also a reminder of what happened," my dad insisted. "Every time you see him, you might remember your captivity. And besides…Doyle is dangerous.”
So we finally get to the heart of the matter, I thought bitterly. This was what he truly felt about Doyle.
"Dangerous? Doyle saved my life," I countered, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm.
"That's exactly it, Michael," my dad said, his own voice growing more urgent. "Doyle's job is to hunt down black magic users. He's constantly putting himself in danger. And you? You shouldn't be sucked into that world again. You barely made it out alive the first time."
"You don't understand," I shot back. "Doyle is not just some reckless warrior. He has a pack to protect, people who rely on him. He's strong, he's capable, and he's been through hell too. He knows what it's like."
"Knowing what it's like doesn't mean he can keep you safe," my dad said, shaking his head. "I don't want you dragged back into that darkness. You've suffered enough. You need peace, stability, a chance to heal properly."
"I need him,” I admitted, my voice trembling. "Doyle makes me feel safe in a way that nothing else does. It's different with him."
"And what if he gets hurt? What if you get hurt again? Or worse?" my dad asked, his voice cracking. "Do you think I could bear losing you a second time?"
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn't considered his fears, his nightmares of losing me again.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart.
My dad sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "I just want what's best for you, Michael,” my dad said.
"I know," I said, my voice softening. "But what's best for me is figuring this out my way. And that includes Doyle."
There was a tense silence between us, the night air thick with unspoken words. Finally, my dad nodded.
"Okay, Michael. We can talk about this another time. Just... don't shut me out, alright?" My dad asked.
"I won't," I promised, even though I wasn't sure I could keep that promise.
"Let's go back inside," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
As we walked back to the party, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was stuck between two worlds.
The one I had lost and the one I was trying to rebuild.
But for now, I had to play the part of the dutiful son, even if it meant pushing my own needs aside. Just for tonight.