Page 13 of Rugged Courage

CHAPTER 7

CECE

Dane says good things about you, Cece,” Waylon says, extending his hand. His grip is firm as he meets my eyes and holds them.

We settle back into the booth. I sip my beer, grateful for something to do with my hands.

“He’s a good man. He probably saved my life.”

“Yes, Dane is good at his job,” Waylon says, though the tone of his voice suggests he’s not happy with Dane right now. “But the first thing we need to take care of is you never talking to anyone about the cabin he took you to last night.”

I stare at Waylon. “Okay?”

“Cece,” Waylon’s voice is low and serious. His dark eyes search mine as if looking for something. “There are things we do on this mountain that…fall outside the law.”

Waylon stares at me like he expects me to say something, but I don’t know what to say. I’m not getting a vibe of something dangerous, but who knows what goes on up here?

“Dane tells me you might be interested in our work. Before we go any further, I need to know—are you prepared to hear some difficult truths? What we do, it’s not for the faint of heart.”

I nod, steeling myself. I’m not sure what’s happening on this mountain, but I’m not one to shy away from difficulty. “Okay,” I say, surprised by the steadiness in my voice.

Waylon takes a deep breath, his eyes scanning the bar as if checking for eavesdroppers. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. “We work with a network that helps women rescued from human trafficking. It’s ugly, dangerous work. We provide a safe haven while they decide what to do next.”

My heart pounds as I listen, the gravity of his words sinking in. I think of the galas I’ve attended and the checks I’ve written, and it suddenly all seems so...insignificant.

“Our main focus,” Waylon continues, leaning in closer, “is providing safety for these women. That’s where Creek Ravine comes in.”

I lean forward, eager to hear more, the burger forgotten in front of me. “The cabin?”

Waylon nods. “Yes. There are other cabins, too. We use the unmarked cabins to hide the women and give them a place where they can feel safe, often for the first time in years. We help them figure out what they want—whether that’s going home, if it’s safe, or starting a new life here in the States.”

My mind races with possibilities. This is it—this is the meaningful work I’ve been searching for. I think of the resources at my disposal and the connections I have. For the first time, I see them not as a burden but as tools to make a real difference.

Before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. “I want to help,” I say firmly, my voice filled with a conviction I’ve never felt before. “I come from a wealthy family—I can help financially. But more than that, I want to work with these women personally.”

Waylon’s eyebrows raise slightly, and I see him look across the bar at Dane. There’s skepticism there and maybe a hint of concern. “That’s...a generous offer, Cece. But it’s not that simple.”

“I know it’s not,” I press on, feeling a surge of purpose. “But I have resources, contacts. I could help these women find jobs and education opportunities. I could make a real difference in their lives.”

I can see the wheels turning in Waylon’s mind as he listens. His fingers drum a slow rhythm on the table, his eyes never leaving mine. “You certainly seem enthusiastic about this,” he says slowly, measuring each word. “But that isn’t always enough. This work requires discretion, experience, and a strong stomach. These women have been through hell, Cece.”

His words sting, like he’s trying to scare me away from helping, but I refuse to back down. I’ve spent too long letting others define me by my family’s wealth and status. “I know that,” I say, my voice low. “I’m not some naïve socialite looking for a pet project. I want to do real, meaningful work. I want to use my privilege to make a difference, not just write checks at charity galas to meet my social obligation for the day.”

The tension in Waylon’s expression eases slightly. “Tell you what. I’ll consider your offer. But there are people I need to discuss this with. This isn’t my decision alone to make.”

I feel a glimmer of hope. It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no, either. “Thank you,” I say earnestly, pouring all my sincerity into those two words. “I accept that.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Waylon says, nodding before sliding out of the booth.

As I watch Waylon walk down the hall that Dane did earlier, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The noise of the bar rushes back in, reminding me of where we are. Dane returns to the booth and sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders.

“How did it go?” he asks, leaning over and kissing the top of my head.

I relax into him, feeling safer and happier than I ever have. Hope and uncertainty swirl inside me. The future stretches out before me, full of possibilities I never imagined.

“Well, I think. He told me about Creek Ravine.” I recount my offer to help and how Waylon hedged. “What happens now?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dane turns to me, his bright blue eyes meeting mine. “Now, we wait. In the meantime, I think we should talk. There’s something I want to ask you.”

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