We finished lunch discussing specifics: who Kendon could introduce me to, what I'd need to prepare, timeline for making moves if I was serious. But he also spoke about the benefits of a coaching career, and how I could make a difference working with those college kids. By the time we stood to leave, I had a clearer picture of where both of those pathways might take me.
My excitement made me want to message Dusty immediately through The Ranch's system, but he was dealing with family stuff. I'd save it for when we could talk properly, maybe over dinner tomorrow.
Back in my suite, I pulled out a fresh page and wrote: “DECISION FRAMEWORK.”
The surgery question was separate from the career question. I could get the standard LA procedure, recover to eighty percent, and still pivot to broadcasting instead of trying to play. That actually made more sense than risking everything on the experimental surgery just to extend my playing career by a few years.
The experimental surgery only made sense if I was committed to returning to elite play. If I wasn't sure about that anymore—and I wasn't—then why gamble with twenty percent odds of permanent damage?
I wrote it down: “Standard surgery for functional recovery. Broadcasting for career flexibility. Tuscaloosa or coaching positions become backup options if media doesn't work out.”
There. A plan that didn't require one perfect choice, just a series of smart moves that kept my options open.
My phone chimed with an email from Ruben marked high priority:
Cord - LA surgeon can see you next Tuesday for standard procedure consultation. Dr. Chen's office, no commitment, just information gathering. Still waiting on Istanbul timeline from Dr. Arslan's team. Flight Monday afternoon, back Wednesday evening. Alabama coaching staff wants preliminary conversation by Halloween. Pittsburgh asking for timeline on decision. Let me know about LA consultation. - R
I stared at the message, wishing I could respond immediately. I'd have to wait until I left to confirm the LA consultation and tell Ruben about the broadcasting angle.
But that was fine. Gave me time to solidify my thinking before committing to anything out loud.
I added “SURGERY CONSULT - TUES” to my timeline notes, then started a new section: “IMMEDIATE ACTION ITEMS.”
One: Confirm LA consultation with Ruben once I'm off Ranch property. Two: Connect with Kendon's media contacts, start building broadcasting network. Three: Keep Alabama coaching position warm as a backup option. Four: Tell Pittsburgh I'm exploring other career paths. Stop stringing them along.
My device chimed. Vincent:Hope you're settling back in well. Available if you'd like to discuss anything from your retreat experience. - V
I messaged back through The Ranch's internal system:Thanks. Actually feeling clearer about the future than I have in months. The cabin time was exactly what I needed.
His response came quickly:Excellent. That clarity is precious. Protect it as you make important decisions.
Good advice. The mental calm I'd found these past few days felt fragile, something that could be disrupted by external pressure or internal anxiety. But the breathing exercises Dusty taught me were holding steady, keeping my mind focused instead of scattered.
As evening approached, I looked at the notes spread across my coffee table. Not ten pages of circular thinking, just clear action items and realistic timelines. The fog had lifted. I could see the path forward now, even if some details still needed filling in.
The standard surgery would give me functional recovery. Broadcasting would give me career flexibility and control over my schedule. And that flexibility meant I could build something real with Dusty, like be there for gallery openings and slow mornings and everything else.
I glanced at the device, then stopped myself from checking for messages. He'd reach out when he was ready. I could be patient.
Through the suite's windows, The Ranch was coming alive for the evening. Lights glowing in the main building, figures moving between structures, heading toward whatever pleasure they'd booked for the night. I could walk downstairs right now and have my pick of companions who knew exactly what they were doing, no complications, no emotional risk. Just fucking. Private rooms, group sessions, whatever I wanted. That's what I'd paid for, after all.
A month ago, I would've been down there already. Hell, a week ago Ihadbeen down there, getting fucked and sucked by professionals.
But I looked at my notes, at the careful plans I'd laid out, at the future I was trying to build. Then I thought about Dusty's hands on my skin, the way he'd looked at me that last morning at the cabin. Not like I was Cord Morales the quarterback or some client he was servicing. Just like I mattered.
I could go downstairs and fuck someone whose name I wouldn't remember tomorrow. Or I could draw a hot bath, soak my aching shoulder, maybe read for a while before getting to bed early. Get up in the morning and go for a run—my legs still worked fine, even if my throwing arm was compromised.
The choice should've been harder. Should've at least required some internal debate.
It didn't.
I headed for the bathroom, already planning tomorrow's route through The Ranch's grounds. Maybe I'd check the breakfast menu, see if Dusty had time to grab coffee before his first session. Nothing elaborate, just... being around him. That was enough.
More than enough, actually.
My shoulder ached, a dull reminder of everything at stake. But for the first time since my injury, the ache was manageable instead of terrifying. I had a plan. I had options. I had clarity.
And tomorrow, I'd start making it real.
