It's good that Lee is keeping some contact with him, because Michael feels like he could fly apart. He's never felt like he had a true home, and now he doesn't even have a house. Lee is all there is to come back to, and he's sitting here scaring the shit out of her.
“I mean what if—”
His attempt at saying it peters out into a nauseated sigh, and his fingers curl frustratedly into his palms. He rocks back and forth for a moment, pressure building behind the silence.
“I can't, no, I can't, I can't do this,” explodes out of him momentarily. As he continues, Michael starts to sound more like he's talking to himself than to Lee—an impassioned attempt to convince himself of his own argument. “He's wrong, he's a fucking liar, he's wrong about everything. That's not what happened.”