Chapter 20

WELLS

I wake up exhausted. I'm not sure how that's even possible when I slept like a rock, but Delilah and our baby filled my dreams. The joy, the fears, the unknowns—everything intertwined is pressing down on my chest. I can't shake the thought that last night's dinner may have shattered everything. I need to see her, talk to her, and find a way to fix this.

I stumble out of bed and head to the bathroom, moving through my morning routine like a man on a mission. Face, teeth, and hair… check. Each action is mechanical, my mind elsewhere. After a quick morning piss and washing my hands after, I move back into the bedroom to my duffel bag. With hurried, almost frantic movements, I tug a plain black T-shirt over my head, a pair of khaki shorts, and my trusty Sperry's.

Hurrying down to the lobby, I grab a coffee from the coffee shop and decaf for my girl since I don't know if she's cut caffeine or not and I'd rather be safe than sorry. Then I grab a few muffins from the little stand by the elevator and head back upstairs, ready to see Delilah and decide our next steps.

I arrive at their room and knock, but no one answers. Maybe they're still sleeping? They had a late night, too, I'm sure. Derek probably got all the sordid details of dinner and they crashed.

Raising my fist, I knock on the door again, but this time call, "Delilah, it's me. I just want to talk."

A maid pushes her cart down the hall in my direction and I wave her my way to get her attention.

My voice betrays my worry. "Good morning. My friend was in this room and I brought breakfast, but no one answered. Can you check and make sure everything is okay? Please." My heart races, a thousand worst-case scenarios flashing through my mind. What if something happened to Delilah and the baby? I should have gotten Derek's number, just in case.

"This room, sir?" She points at the door.

"Yes."

She looks at the door, her brows narrow and she pulls a tablet from her cart.

"Sorry, sir." She looks up at me. "This room is empty. The guests checked out bright and early this morning." She leaves me standing there, pushing her cart a few rooms down before disappearing inside.

Left?

She just left without a word? My heart sinks, a lead weight settling in my chest. Did I mean so little to her? The thought cuts deeper than I expected, a sting of betrayal and confusion.

This time, she won't get away so easily. I have her phone number and her legal name. I can have my guy quickly track down her address. We do background checks on all our employees, so running one woman's background shouldn't be an issue.

With a frustrated sigh, I toss the cup of decaf and the muffins in the trash and storm to my parents' suite, my mind racing with determination and hurt. I need answers.

The elevator dings and I step out, storming down the hallway. I can hardly contain the frustration boiling inside me. I reach their door and bang on it, my knuckles reddening with each thud. After a few moments, my mother opens the door, her face a mix of surprise and concern.

"Wells, what on earth?—"

I push past her, barely registering her words, and flop on the couch.

"What's wrong, Wells?" she asks, her tone laced with worry.

"She's gone," I mutter.

"Who's gone?"

"Delilah," I say, looking up at her with frustration and hurt. "I went to her room to talk and make sure she was okay, and she was gone. According to the hotel, she checked out this morning. Just left without a word."

She moves to sit down next to me, taking my hands in hers. "It's going to be okay, son. This isn't the end of your story. It's the dramatic middle where you think it won't work out, but it does."

"Mom," I groan, rolling my eyes. "This isn't one of your rom-coms or cheesy love stories. This is my life. I know it doesn't make sense, but I really thought this was it for me. That she was it for me. Instead, I'm once again pining over someone I can't find."

"But you can find her, Wells. We have her number, and I'm sure her address is just an internet click away."

"I don't know," I sigh.

"You're in love, Wells. Don't lose it over stubbornness. That girl has a lot going on right now. She just needs a firm hand and someone who won't give up on her."

A sudden knock on the door startles both of us.

"This is the Florida State Police. Open up!"

We look at each other, confusion written all over our faces. What the hell?

My dad steps out of the bedroom with Jonas on his heels. He opens the door and the police step inside.

"We're looking for Jonas Covington," one officer says.

"That's me," Jonas replies, his confusion mirroring ours. "What's this about?"

They waste no time cuffing him. "You're under arrest."

"Now, you can't do that," my dad protests, stepping forward. "What is this about? My son has done nothing wrong."

"Sir, please step back," another officer says, holding out his hand to keep my dad from intervening. "Jonas Covington, you're under arrest for the battery of Claudia Salahan."

"What? That's ridiculous!" Jonas exclaims, struggling against the cuffs. "I did nothing of the sort!"

My mom gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. I feel as if someone has ripped the ground out from under me. First Delilah, and now this. How much more can we take?

"Please, there must be some mistake," my dad pleads, desperation in his voice.

"We have a warrant for his arrest," the officer says, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to my dad. "We will take him to the station for questioning."

As they lead Jonas away, I feel a sense of helplessness wash over me. Everything is deteriorating rapidly, and I don't know how to stop it. My mom's grip tightens on my hand, her eyes brimming with tears.

We hurry out of the room behind the police, our footsteps echoing down the hallway as we watch them put Jonas in the back of the squad car. My brother, his face pale and confused, being driven away with flashing lights, is a sight that makes my stomach churn.

In the car, my dad's hands tremble as he frantically dials our attorney. The tension hangs heavy in the air, a potent blend of anger, fear, and disbelief, the speakerphone ringtone ominous in the air.

"This is ridiculous," my dad mutters under his breath. "Jonas didn't do anything. How could this be happening?"

"I know, Dad," I reply, my own voice shaky. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

On the second ring, the attorney picks up the phone. "Roy, what's going on?"

My dad takes a deep breath, struggling to keep his composure. "Jonas was just arrested. They're saying he's being charged with battery. It's Claudia's doing. We need you."

"Let me see what I can find out," he says, hanging up.

Upon arriving at the station, my dad confronts the front desk officer, hoping for answers, only to be met with silence. It's infuriating how they operate with such cold, impersonal efficiency. Finally, the attorney calls back, and my dad and I step outside to take the call. He puts it on speakerphone.

"Roy, from what I've gathered over the phone, Jonas is being charged with battery. Claudia Salahan claims that she and Jonas had a physical altercation last night due to the cancellation of their upcoming wedding. She is currently at the station, providing her statement and also has some pictures."

"That's bullshit. He was with us last night," I say, my anger flaring up.

"All night?" the attorney asks.

"Well, I left at like midnight, but he was with my parents, yes."

"Roy, did you stay up with him and see him the whole time? Otherwise, that alibi will have holes poked in it from every way you can imagine."

My dad's jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow, his face reddening with fury as if he is about to explode in anger. "I went to bed shortly after Wells left. I didn't see Jonas after that."

"So now what?" I ask, frustration and helplessness battling within me.

"Hold tight. I have an associate down there that is headed your way. The police are contacting the resort to see about pulling video footage."

We hang up and head back inside, taking a seat in the waiting area. The harsh fluorescent lights do nothing to ease the tension, and the sterile smell of the station makes me feel sick. The back door opens, and Claudia steps out with Drew by her side, his arm wrapped around her. Her appearance shocks me—she has a black eye and scratches on her face, looking like hell.

"What the hell have you done?" My mother storms toward Claudia, her eyes blazing with righteous anger.

Claudia lets out a small whimper, flinching as she took a step back. "Don't hurt me like your son did."

I step up next to my mom, glaring at Claudia. "Your son did it this time, Covington. The merger is off," Drew spits, his eyes cold and vindictive as he looks at my dad.

"Fuck you. Covington Hotels will destroy you," I seethe, my fists clenching. "This is all lies, and you know it."

Drew gently leads Claudia from the station, the sound of her sobs resonating through the hallway. We settle back into our chairs, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on us. I can't believe this is happening; it feels like a surreal nightmare. We should have known that Claudia wouldn't just slither away without having the last word.

As we sit there, my thoughts race, a chaotic jumble of anger, fear, and helplessness. Jonas, always the responsible one, now accused of something so heinous. Claudia's accusations feel like a knife twisting in my gut.

My mom's hand trembles as she clutches mine, her face pale and drawn. "We'll get through this, Wells," she whispers. "We have to believe in Jonas. We have to fight for him."

As I nod, my mind effortlessly slips back to Delilah, her presence lingering in my thoughts. In the midst of this chaos, she's still out there, somewhere. Unaware of what's happened. She only just met her father, and a part of me feels deeply that she has no clue what's happened to him. What her mother did to him.

I can't lose Delilah too. Not now. I need to find her, to make things right. The thought of her slipping away without knowing the truth of how I feel and how serious I am of being a father gnaws at me. My heart aches with the weight of everything happening.

"Stay strong, Wells," my dad says, his voice filled with a resolve that gives me a glimmer of hope. "We'll clear Jonas' name, and we'll get through this."

The minutes tick by slowly as we sit there, waiting, and every second seems to drag on endlessly. The uncertainty, the fear of what's coming, it's all-consuming. This isn't just a fight for Jonas' freedom; it's a fight for my family's future. And I won't let it fall apart. Not now, not ever.