Lenny's voice was calm. "What do you want?"
"I don't know yet, but it's not that."
A pause. "Sounds like you're not quitting. You're choosing scale."
I tested his comment—rolled it around in my head.
"Yeah. That's it."
"For what it's worth? I think that's smart. You're allowed to want something different. Keep me posted. If Pickle greenlights the counter-doc, we'll make it work."
He hung up.
You're choosing scale.
I returned to the arena parking lot at 5:20 p.m. It was the end of an optional skate. Most of the Storm were likely to be there.
I parked near the far edge where asphalt gave way to gravel. Close enough to be visible. Far enough to not be in the way.
The side door opened ten minutes later.
Hog and Rhett emerged. Rhett spotted me, said something to Hog. They looked.
Jake and Evan came out next. Jake elbowed Evan, who glanced over and kept moving.
Pickle came out alone after five more minutes. Damp hair curled at his temples. He had his equipment bag over one shoulder and his phone in his other hand. Orange Crocs.
He looked up, saw me, and stopped.
He walked across the parking lot at a steady pace and stopped six feet away.
Close enough for me to want to close the distance, but I didn't.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey. I'm staying in Thunder Bay. Rhett offered me product photography work. It's not glamorous, but it's steady, and I'll be able to afford to stay here."
Pickle shifted his bag. The movement exposed a strip of skin at his hip.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I wanted you to know. I'm not staying because I think it'll fix things. I'm staying because I don't want to be the person who only knows how to leave."
He looked at me for a long moment. "You're staying for you then?"
"Yeah."
"Good. That's—good."
A wind began to blow off Lake Superior.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me or decide anything right now. I just—" I exhaled. "If I stayed, would you want me here?"
He looked down at his phone. Locked it. Shoved it in his pocket.
"I don't know," he said.
There was no malice. It was simply a true statement.
