Love Rents A Room
Chapter 111: She Cared For Him Forever

Chapter 111: She Cared For Him Forever

Joanne’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

She had thought about building a logistics empire before. It had always been a daydream, something she would let her mind wander to during quiet moments—but nothing she had ever seriously considered.

She preferred the farm. The steady rhythm of it. The simplicity.

Yet Philip’s words struck something deep inside her.

Because he believed she could do it. And suddenly, she felt like she could, too.

She swallowed, her voice steady but thoughtful. "I’ll think about it."

It wasn’t false modesty. It was a promise to herself, actually to consider it.

Because if she wanted to expand, she would need funds. Planes and ships weren’t just expensive, they were monumental investments. She would need offices in major cities, near ports, in key locations.

She needed a plan.

Philip, however, was completely unfazed.

"I’ll fix you with someone," he said casually, as if it were as simple as setting up a lunch meeting.

Joanne froze.

Jeffrey, watching from across the table, had to press a hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

Philip’s nonchalance. Joanne’s pale, stunned expression. The sheer contrast of it all.

She was over there calculating finances, thinking about infrastructure, logistics, the mountain of things she’d have to arrange.

And his grandfather? He already had everything figured out. Because, in his mind, it was a done deal.

She would get those ships and planes for a fraction of what they were worth. She would have everything in place before she even realized it.

Jeffrey exhaled, feeling the weight of realization settle on his shoulders.

He had a lot of work to do.

He had no idea how to do it yet...

But he would learn.

Because if Joanne was going to build something this big, he was going to be right there beside her.

Joanne bustled around excitedly, packing an assortment of gifts for Philip Winchester to take back home—golden lavender honey, rich fruit marmalades, top-quality cheese, and of course, a small bottle of moonshine. Even the men traveling with him were not forgotten; she set aside extra snacks for them.

Jeffrey leaned against the dining table, watching her busying about. She was always like this—effortlessly warm, thoughtful in ways that made a person feel seen.

Then, he felt it.

Philip’s gaze.

Judging him.

Jeffrey sighed, looking away. He knew exactly what his grandfather was thinking. If only he had listened four years ago. If only he had trusted Philip’s word, he would have been sitting here as her husband, eating meals she made, waking up beside her. Maybe even raising a family.

His eyes drifted to the table, scanning over the beautifully wrapped goods, until his gaze landed on a familiar jar.

He reached for it, fingers closing around its hexagonal shape. No labels, no stickers. Just a simple mason jar, filled with light amber honey.

His chest tightened.

He knew this jar. This exact jar.

Back home, they rarely got it, and when they did, he claimed it before anyone else could. He would tuck it away in his dresser, rationing each spoonful, only offering a few begrudging tastes to his grandfather. Even his grandmother had to ask nicely.

But why was it here?

"Is this... lavender honey?" His voice came out quieter than intended as he held the jar closer.

"Ah... yes, it is..." Joanne’s voice wavered, her smile tight.

She quickly pried it from his hands and placed it back on the table.

Jeffrey frowned before promptly picking it up again.

"I love this honey." He turned to her, his brows knitting together. "Why did you hide it from me?"

She had never once mentioned it. Never once offered it to him, despite him having access to her pantry. Did she keep it hidden? It didn’t make sense.

Joanne’s entire face turned red. Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders. "It’s for Mr. Winchester. Give it back."

She reached for it again, but he held it out of her reach, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

Philip leaned back in his chair, watching the quiet battle unfold between his grandson and Joanne. His lips twitched with amusement before he decided to step in.

"My grandson Jeffrey loves that honey," he said, swirling his whiskey with slow precision. "And Joanne always made sure I had at least a jar whenever I visited."

That was the truth.

He could still picture it—the memory as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

Joanne, no older than a sophomore, standing her ground at the bustling local market. She had locked horns with another family over the last jar of that very honey, her jaw set, her eyes fierce. The other party had money on their side, but Joanne had something far more powerful—determination.

She didn’t back down.

Instead, she bargained.

Traded high-quality wool from her family’s sheep farm, refusing to leave without securing that jar.

And why? Because she knew he liked it. Because she wanted him to have it.

Philip exhaled, a pang of regret settling in his chest.

He had always known how much Jeffrey loved this honey. But he had never told him where it came from.

Never told him that, all this time, it had come from her.

At first, it had been out of caution. Jeffrey had blocked out memories of Rockchapel, of Joanne, after the trauma of his past. Philip hadn’t wanted to disrupt his fragile mental state.

But now...

Now, he wondered if he had made a mistake.

Because looking at them—Joanne with her flustered red face, Jeffrey clutching that honey like it was something precious—it was painfully clear.

Joanne had never stopped looking out for him.

And Jeffrey?

He was only just beginning to see the truth.

Joanne stiffened. "It was my Papaw!" she blurted out, a little too fast. "Papaw got it for you!"

Jeffrey just stared at her.

She was lying.

And she knew he knew.

Before he could say anything, she lunged forward, snatching the jar from his hands. Then, without another word, she turned and bolted for the kitchen—flinging open the freezer and shoving her head inside.

He exhaled slowly.

She always did that when she was overwhelmed.

His fingers curled into fists.

It wasn’t just about that day she saved his life.

She had thought about him for years. Cared for him. Looked out for him, even when he had been too blind to see it.

That was why she had agreed to marry him back then.

Not for money. Not out of obligation.

Because she had always been fighting for him.

And he...

He had left her behind.