Page 32 of Forecasting the Forward

He grabs my hair and yanks me out of the chair. “Get the fuck out of here. Make yourself presentable, Rebecca. You’re such an embarrassment. People will arrive in an hour.”

Grabbing my bag, I blindly lunge toward the front door. Tears block my vision, and I throw open the door with gusto. I’m unprepared to hit a wall when I step outside, but the familiar feeling is reminiscent of a handful of weeks ago when I ran into Jacob.

“Woah! What’s the rush, darlin’?” Jacob drawls as he holds onto my shoulders. “You okay?”

“Do you have a car?” I whisper.

“I do.”

“Can we leave? Just go anywhere. Please,” I plead, my head bowed. I have a feeling if Jacob sees my face, he’ll rush into the house and beat the hell out of my brother. As much as I’d love to see that, I know my brother well enough to know he’ll press charges immediately. I can’t be the reason why Jacob’s career ends.

“Sure, Spitfire. You wanna help me get settled into my room? Apparently only the honeymoon suite at the Paradise Point Hotel was available, but the lady I spoke to promised to give me all the rose petals and a bottle of champagne, so I think I’m getting the better end of the deal.” Jacob gently takes my elbow, leading me to a small sedan parked in the driveway.

“How did you get in here?” I wonder aloud. “The guards at this gated community barely let me in here, and I grew up in this house.”

“Played the celebrity card and gave a couple autographs. I hate doing it, but it works,” Jacob admits. He opens the passenger door for me, waiting until I’m safely inside before shutting the door and trotting around the car. “You alright if we head to the hotel?”

“Wait. Why are you staying here? Don’t you have to go to Cleveland?” I ask suddenly, but Jacob shrugs.

“I explained the situation to my coach. I got a flight tomorrow at two that gets me into Cleveland by five. Thegame doesn’t start until seven thirty. It isn’t ideal, but I’m relieved he was so accommodating. I may have told him you’re my girlfriend, but since you already asked me to be your fake boyfriend, I guess it wasn’t a complete lie,” he confesses sheepishly.

I let out an awkward giggle. “You don’t have to stay. Your actual job is important.”

“I know. But I also know you’re hurting, and I’m not about to leave you alone around these vultures when you don’t have anyone to back you up.”

I feel a warmth in my belly. It’s an odd sensation, but I’m not accustomed to having people ready to support me. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says quietly, reaching over and grabbing my hand. We’re quiet for the few minutes it takes to cross town, with only the navigation directions breaking up the silence. As we pull up to the hotel, I realize I’m about to go into a hotel with a man who is pretty famous, and I possibly look like I’ve been beaten up. Dragging my hair over my shoulders, I push it to cover my cheeks. He doesn’t even know I’m staying at the same hotel.

Jacob grabs a bag from the trunk, then waits for me to walk beside him. He again grabs my hand, and the feel of his hand against mine grounds me. He’s the strength I need right now.

As he registers with the front desk associate, I keep my head turned and look at a wall of advertisements. Some are still the same from when I lived here over fifteen years ago. New ones include people I went to high school with selling various multi-level marketing schemes, or moms opening up at-home daycare slots. Why on earth would someone advertise a daycare at a hotel?

“You ready, baby?” Jacob calls out, and the butterflies erupt in my stomach. I don’t know which one I like better: Spitfire or baby. Either of them said with Jacob’s slow, southern drawl arelike honey being poured over my skin. And boy, I sure would love it if he licked that honey right off.

Jacob takes my hand again as he leads me to the elevator. Heading up to the third floor, we walk silently to the end of the hallway. “It sure is quiet for a hotel that claims they only had the honeymoon suite available.”

“I overheard my mother say that most of the hotels were completely booked because of the funeral tomorrow.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. Your dad was a popular guy then.”

I shrug. “No. He just schmoozed with a ton of people.”

“How did he die?” Jacob asks quietly as we reach the door to the suite.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “Anytime I’ve asked, I’ve been shut down. My guess is a heart attack. He never took good care of himself when I lived here, so I can only assume that continued.”

Opening the door, Jacob gestures for me to walk into the suite, but I stop a few feet in, completely taken aback at the sight before me.

“Holy shit,” Jacob breathes. “No wonder this was still available.”

A circular bed with a heart shaped headboard sits in the middle of the room. Red rose petals cover a white bedspread, cascading over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. The petals lead to the corner of the room, where a large jacuzzi tub resides.

“Red rose petals were a bold choice,” Jacob comments. “You’d think they’d go white or pink to match the walls.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmur, unable to formulate any other coherent thoughts. It’s like a Pepto Bismol party in here. Every shade of pink imaginable. Pale pink carpet, which clashes horribly with the red rose petals. Textured wallpaper with what appear to be dark pink clouds with lightning bolts of white zinging through. I love the weather aspect of the wallpaper, but the colors are sobright it’s giving me a headache. I’m about to comment that I want to put sunglasses on, when I hear Jacob loudly swear.

“What the fuck!” I automatically turn toward him, thinking he’s found some other horrifying shade of bubblegum bullshit, but find his eyes wide as he stares at me. “What the fuck happened to your face?”

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