“Absolutely,” I agreed.
“The Ranch has been home to many people seeking themselves,” Ibrahim said, his dark eyes studying Dusty with that familiar intensity. “Wealthy men trying to understand their desires, confused souls searching for acceptance, broken people learning to heal. But you helped others find themselves while you were here.”
He paused, something paternal in his expression. “That's not just employment, Dustin. That's family. That's what we've been to each other, chosen family building something beautiful together.”
His hand squeezed Dusty's shoulder. “Whatever you create next, remember that you carry our love with you. Our belief in your gifts. That's legacy too.”
They shook hands, and I watched something pass between them—acknowledgment, respect, seven years condensed into one gesture.
“Thank you,” Dusty said, voice thick. “For seeing me when I didn't see myself.”
“I think you outgrew this place some time ago, Dustin. You needed permission to admit it. Thank you for reminding us why we built this place.” Ibrahim turned to me. “Mr. Morales. I trust you understand what you're taking with you.”
“I do.”
“See that you remember. Dustin is exceptional. Treat that accordingly.”
After Ibrahim left, Dusty stood still, staring at the door. Then his shoulders shook, silent tears tracking down his face.
I crossed to him, pulled him into my arms. He came easily, burying his face against my shoulder.
“I'm okay,” he said, muffled. “Just... that was harder than I expected.”
“He gave you his blessing. That's huge.”
Ranch employees worked efficiently, carrying Dusty’s luggage and storage boxes out to my rental SUV. Vincent appeared as they secured the last bag, materializing from the main lodge. The evening air was cooling, November chill settling as the sun lowered.
Vincent handed Dusty an envelope, heavy cream paper with The Ranch's watermark embossed in gold. “Final paycheck, plus a bonus. Consider it our investment in your future.”
Dusty opened it, eyes widening at the check inside. “Vincent, this is—”
“Fair compensation for seven years of excellent work. Don't fight me. Just say thank you and use it wisely. You know,” Vincent said quietly, his usual polish softening into something more vulnerable, “Ibrahim and I never had biological family who understood what we were building here. Most people see The Ranch and think it's just about sex, about indulgence. But you got it from day one.”
He gestured at the courtyard around us, at the carefully designed spaces where healing happened alongside pleasure. “You became proof that we could create something meaningful, not just profitable. That what we built here could help people become who they're meant to be.”
His smile was warm, genuine. “That's family, Dusty. That's legacy. And you've been ours for seven years. You were one of the best we've ever had. Not just at the technical work, but at understanding what people needed. That's rare. Don't forget that as you build whatever comes next.”
They embraced, and I looked away. Around us, The Ranch continued its evening rhythm—couples strolling toward cabanas, laughter from hot tubs, soft music from opened windows.
“Take care of each other. Both of you,” Vincent said when they pulled apart.
“We will,” I promised.
We climbed into the SUV, doors closing with solidthunksthat felt final. I started the engine but didn't shift into gear yet.
“You need a minute?” I asked.
“Yeah. Just a minute.”
We sat there as evening settled over The Ranch. Lights glowed warm in windows, steam rising from the hot tubs into the cool air. Music started somewhere, something with a slow, sensual beat promising long nights.
This place had been Dusty's home, workplace, sanctuary and prison all at once. Seven years contained in these buildings and grounds, in people who'd become family.
“Okay,” he said finally, voice steady. “I'm ready.”
I shifted into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, tires crunching on gravel before finding smooth pavement. In the rearview mirror, I watched The Ranch grow smaller, lights receding into the Texas night. Dusty watched too, twisted in his seat, until we rounded a curve and it disappeared behind live oaks.
Then he turned forward, settling back with a long exhale.
