Page 27 of Declan (Men of Clifton, Montana #53)

Elise stood in the room, watching the young dancers do their routines, but her mind wasn’t on them at all.

She missed Declan so much, but he told her to go, though she didn’t understand why.

She was so in love with him, and she knew he loved her, so why were they apart?

She’d been in New York for a month now and she wanted to go home. Home to Declan.

“Elise?”

She turned to face Wynonna with a smile. “Hello, Wynonna.”

Wynonna put her arm around her. “They look lovely, don’t they?”

“Yes.” Elise sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not having a good day.”

“You haven’t had a good day since you’ve been here, honey.”

“I’m sorry, Wynonna. I know I told you I’d give this a try, but I’m not really into it.”

“It’s that deputy, isn’t it? I could feel the sparks between you, and though he’s a cowboy, he is one handsome devil.”

A tear slid down Elise’s cheek. “I love him so much.”

“Then why are you here?”

“He told me to come here.”

“So, he wants you to see where you belong.”

Elise looked at her. “Do you believe that?”

“Don’t you?”

“I don’t know, even though that’s what he told me. It just cut me to the core when he said it.”

“Come sit down,” Wynonna said, leading her to a sofa in the room. “Girls, keep doing your routines.”

Elise plopped onto the sofa, then Wynonna sat down beside her and held her hand.

“Elizabeth, the man is obviously in love with you—”

“Wynonna—”

“Do not interrupt me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He told you to come here so you could see if you want to be here or with him. He’s giving you a choice, dear. Ballet or him. How did this come about?”

“He saw me dancing. I’d dance every Saturday after my dancercise classes were over. He happened to see me.”

“Ah, I see.” Wynonna nodded her head.

“Tell me what you see.” Elise wiped a tear away from her cheek.

“Elizabeth, when you dance, your entire body is moving perfectly and the joy on your face is hard to miss. He saw that and knew how much you loved to dance.”

“But I’m not dancing here. I teach. I was doing that in Clifton, and I was happy.”

“Are you happy here?”

“Wynonna—”

“Are you happy here?” Wynonna repeated.

“How is it you can interrupt but I can’t?”

“Because I’m older.”

Elise laughed. “I get it. Respect.”

“Quit stalling. Answer my question.”

Elise huffed. “No. No, I am not happy here. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You know where you belong. Go home.”

“I promised you two months, and I will keep that promise. I’ll leave at the beginning of December. That will give you time to find a replacement.”

“If that’s what you want. I want you happy too, and I honestly believe you will be happier back in Clifton.”

Elise hugged her. “You know I love you and I hate to disappoint you.”

“Oh, you’re not disappointing me. I’m happy for you.”

Later, as she drove home to her parents’ house, she wondered how she lasted this long without Declan in her life.

There were no phone calls or texts. She knew it was best because it would be so much harder if she had decided to stay here.

But so many nights when she couldn’t sleep, she’d pick up her phone and stare at the photos of them together and she wanted to talk to him badly.

Elise sighed as she pulled into the driveway of her parents’ house.

Her mother was so happy that Elise would be with them for Thanksgiving and she wondered what Declan was doing for the holiday.

She was sure he’d be with his family. At least, she hoped so because she hated the thought of him being alone.

“Just hang in there, Declan Cavanaugh, I’ll see you soon,” she said as she shut the vehicle off, opened the door, then entered the house.

****

As Declan exited the office, holding onto Tank with a sturdy leash, he cast a wistful glance toward Elise’s studio, then let his eyes drift upwards to the shadowed windows of her apartment.

The absence of light behind those panes mirrored the emptiness he felt inside.

Though it had been his suggestion for her to pursue her dreams in New York, the void her departure had left was deep, and he missed her with an aching intensity.

Despite the heartache, he wanted what was best for her, even if it meant enduring the pain of her absence.

After gently guiding Tank into the back of the vehicle, he slid into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against his weary frame. With a turn of the key, the SUV cruiser roared to life, its headlights cutting through the encroaching darkness as he maneuvered out of the parking lot.

The day had been grueling, stretched thin by an accident on Copper Ridge that demanded every deputy’s presence, extending his shift by a weary three hours.

Along with snow falling heavily, it was a tiresome scene.

Fatigue clung to him like a shadow, and all he longed for now was the solace of home, the cleansing embrace of a hot shower, and the sweet release of sleep.

He desperately hoped for rest, for ever since Elise had left, sleep had been elusive.

Declan’s headlights carved through the inky night as he headed home.

He watched a dark sedan ahead drift across the faded yellow centerline again and again.

Each time the tires hissed on the edge of the asphalt before the car careened onto the gravel berm, its driver yanked the wheel to drag it back onto the road.

The smell of damp earth rose from the shoulder, mingling with the faint acrid tang of burnt rubber.

With a low sigh, Declan called in the license plate.

After supplying the number, the reply crackled with a name he didn’t recognize, but there were no warrants or tickets.

Nothing to give him a clue as to what he’d be dealing with.

He flipped on his emergency lights; beams of red and blue splintered over the trees. The sedan pirouetted wildly, crossing lanes. Declan lifted the PA microphone to his lips. “Pull the vehicle over now!”

But the car kept weaving. Heart pounding, he closed the gap, and hit the siren, at last, the sedan hissed to a stop on the shoulder of the road. He angled his cruiser behind it, engaged the brake, and heard Tank bark once sharply from the back.

“Stay, boy,” Declan murmured, swinging his door open.

He put on his hat and stepped out into the cold and onto the snow-covered gravel.

The crunch echoed in the hush. The sedan’s driver-side door creaked open, and he froze, hand inches from his holstered weapon.

A tall man stumbled out, Stephen Johnston, rumpled collar, eyes glassy.

From the passenger seat a woman slipped free, her face ashen beneath the streetlight.

“Ma’am, please stay in the car,” Declan said, voice firm.

“I don’t want him driving me anywhere!” she nearly screamed, voice trembling.

“Trust me, he won’t be,” Declan replied, turning to Johnston. “License, registration, and proof of insurance.”

Johnston swayed, slurring, “It’s not my car.”

“I still need the information,” Declan snapped, tension coiling in his jaw. He watched Johnston lean back inside, retrieve the paperwork from the glovebox, and straighten with a crooked grin. He held the crumpled documents out. “Come get it, Deputy.”

Declan’s finger tapped the grip of his holstered weapon. “Bring it to me… slowly.”

Instead, Johnston slid back into the driver’s seat. Declan drew his pistol in one smooth motion, black metal gleaming under the flashing lights. He advanced; aim trained on Johnston. “Get out of the fucking car, Johnston. Now!”

Johnston’s laugh was thick with booze. “Oh, you’d love to shoot me, wouldn’t you, Cavanaugh?”

“Give me a fucking reason,” Declan’s voice was gravel. “If you try to leave, I promise it will not go well for you.” He clenched his teeth. “Get out of the vehicle or I’ll drag your ass out.”

Johnston’s hand drifted toward the door.

In an instant Declan holstered his sidearm, seized Johnston’s upper arm, and wrenched him free from the vehicle.

With a harsh tug he sent Johnston sprawling onto the gravel, rolled him face-down, straddled his back, and snapped steel handcuffs around his wrists. The click resonated in the still night.

Declan reached for his shoulder mic. “Dispatch, send backup—DUI in progress.”

“Let me up, you prick!” Johnston spat.

“How about a breathalyzer now, you son of a bitch?”

“I won’t take one and I will not allow you to take my blood,” Johnston slurred.

Declan hauled him upright and pressed him against the sedan’s rear fender.

“Since you refuse to take a breathalyzer test, your license will be suspended, so hand them over now.” The cruiser’s lights bounced off his badge as he recited the Miranda warning.

He watched as Johnston glanced around. Declan barked, “Do not even think of running or I’ll have the dog run you down.

” He glanced inside the car. “Ma’am, are you alright? ”

She nodded, voice quavering. “Yes, thank you, Deputy. He scared the hell out of me.”

Declan nodded once, then looked back at Johnston. Under his breath Johnston sneered, “I’ll be out in no time.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault Elise left you. I knew she would. If she had stayed with me—” Johnston smirked, making Declan walk to where he stood, and glare at him.

“If she had stayed with you, she’d probably be dead too. You’re drunk and driving. Are you trying to kill someone… again ?”

Declan heard the woman gasp. “He killed someone?”

“Yes, while he’d been driving drunk. I’m telling you so you know not to get into a car with him again.”

“That’s a lie!” Johnston shouted. Declan leaned closer.

“It’s not a lie about you killing someone. You killed your wife! You got lucky the judge decided to give you just probation. If it had been up to me, your ass would be in a cell.”

“I know you were fucking my wife, Cavanaugh.”