I sat on the edge of my bed in boxers and a Storm hoodie, staring at my phone. Adrian's Thursday text:Counter-proposal accepted. Network agreed to bury the original cut. Will send details when finalized.
Two days of silence since then. I thought about Hog's words. About showing up for myself.
I thought about Adrian at Friday's practice—sitting in the stands, no camera, just watching. He'd stayed for the whole thing, then left without trying to talk to me. He was doing what he said he'd do. I pulled out my phone.
Pickle:Come over.
Three dots appeared. Stopped. Started again.
Adrian:When?
Pickle:Now.
Adrian:Okay. Out looking at apartments, but I'll be there in 20.
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on my door. He stood there in a gray henley and dark jeans, hands in his pockets.
"Hi."
"Come in."
He stepped inside carefully, taking in my place—the mismatched furniture, the Storm jersey Jake had signedTo Pickle, who makes me look good by comparison, and the shelf of peewee medals and a Niagara Falls snow globe.
"Your place is very you," he said.
"Still me. Is that a compliment?"
"Yeah."
I sat on the couch. Patted the cushion. He sat, leaving six inches between us.
I turned to face him. "I need to say some things. Listen. Don't interrupt, don't explain, and don't fix."
"Understood."
"If you're staying in Thunder Bay, you need to want to be here. Not because of me. You have to want this town, the rink, and the fact that nothing's open past nine and winter lasts until May."
He nodded.
"I'm not a project, and I'm not your redemption arc. If you stay, I'm just me—a minor league player who still gets his hand stuck in Pringles cans. I'm not going to be more than that for you."
"I don't want you to be more than that."
I held up a hand. "Not done."
I looked at my hands. Bitten nails. Tape residue on my thumb.
"I'm not your reason for staying. I can't be that. If we do this, I need to be part of your life, not the whole thing. You have to wantThunder Bay when I'm at away games, and when I'm having a shit week, barely existing."
"I want all of that," he said. "I spent fifteen years always leaving, always moving toward the next thing. I don't want to arrive anymore. I want to stay."
"In Thunder Bay. A place where it's big news when Tim Hortons adds a new donut."
"Where I've watched grown men cry over a packaging product. Where I've met a team that takes care of each other in ways I didn't know people could." He paused. "And yeah, it is where you are, but that's not the only reason. I like who I am when I'm here."
It was hard to breathe for a moment.
"This is a start," I said. "Not a reset. I need to be able to be mad at you sometimes without you freaking out over it."
