“Vincent has a cabin about twenty minutes from here. Private, quiet. We could go there for a few days, give you space to work through this without the pressure of being around everyone. I'd be with you the whole time.”
He turned to look at me, searching my face for something. “You'd do that?”
“Yeah, I would. If you're willing to try.”
“Try what? Cold turkey?”
“Not exactly. More like... learning to sit with what you're feeling instead of numbing it out. Using breath work, movement, meditation. All the stuff that actually helps your body heal instead of just covering up the pain.” I took a breath. “It's not going to be easy. You'll probably hate me by day two. But I think it could help.”
He was quiet for a long moment, and I could see him weighing his options. Leave The Ranch and go back to the same patterns, or take a chance on something different. On me.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Let's do it.”
Relief washed through me, mixed with something else. Fear, maybe. This was going way beyond the boundaries I'd kept withclients for seven years. But looking at Cord's face, seeing the desperate hope there, I knew I couldn't walk away.
I stood and extended my hand to help him up. “Let me talk to Vincent and Dr. Hart. We'll need their approval.”
He took my hand, his grip strong despite everything. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen me before my morning coffee.”
That got a small smile out of him, the first I'd seen since entering the room. I held onto that smile as I left to find Vincent, knowing I was about to ask for something way outside standard protocol.
Vincent and Dr. Hart were waiting in the hallway, their expressions carefully neutral.
“We need to talk,” I said. “All of us.”
Vincent's eyebrows rose, but he nodded and stepped into the examination room with Dr. Hart, closing the door behind them. The space felt smaller with all four of us here—Cord still sitting on the examination table, me standing beside him, Vincent leaning against the counter, and Dr. Hart by the door.
“So,” Vincent said, looking between Cord and me. “What's the plan?”
“Your cabin,” I started, then realized how presumptuous this sounded. “The one by the creek.”
Vincent blinked. “My personal cabin?”
“I know it's a lot to ask.” It was his private space, where he'd go when he needed to get away from it all. Few people knew about it.
Vincent leaned back against the counter. “That's... quite the request, Dusty.”
“I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was important.” I glanced at Cord, who watched me with those dark eyes that saw too much.“But it would give Cord the isolation he needs to work through this without being completely cut off.”
“Define 'work through this.’” Dr. Hart clearly didn’t like what he’d heard. “We're talking about potential withdrawal symptoms, panic attacks, pain management without medication—”
“I'm not an addict,” Cord said firmly, and I could hear the edge of desperation in his voice. “I just... need help to find better ways to manage what I'm dealing with.”
The room went quiet. Vincent leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in that way he had when he was thinking through all the angles. “It's an interesting idea. But Dusty, this puts you in a complicated position. You're not trained for—”
“For what? Meditation? Breathing exercises? Pain management through movement?” I felt defensive heat rising in my chest, my hands clenching. “I've been doing this for seven years. I know my limits.”
“Do you?” Vincent's voice was gentle but pointed. “This is different from a yoga session. This is...” He looked at Cord, then back at me, and I saw understanding dawn in his eyes. “This is personal.”
“Yes,” I said. “It is.”
The admission changed the energy in the room. Dr. Hart cleared his throat. “From a medical standpoint, I have concerns. What if there's an emergency? What if the anxiety is worse than anticipated?”
“The cabin has a landline,” Vincent said slowly, like he was thinking out loud. “It's only twenty minutes from here if something goes wrong. We could do daily check-ins.”
“And I'll monitor my own symptoms,” Cord added. “I know the difference between discomfort and danger. If it gets bad, we come back.”
