Love Rents A Room
Chapter 140: Handling Pain Alone

Chapter 140: Handling Pain Alone

Jeffrey stood and walked toward the door just as Joanne tried to sit up. The movement sent a dull throb through her skull, but she ignored it.

Outside, a murmur of voices swelled—a crowd waiting beyond the door.

First, the doctors. They bustled in, checking her vitals, adjusting her IV, and ensuring she was stable. One of them asked how she was feeling, but before she could answer, another was already scribbling notes onto a clipboard.

Next came the police.

They stepped inside with clipped professionalism, their expressions unreadable. Joanne’s pulse quickened. She knew why they were here.

They wanted her statement.

Surviving the attack had been one thing. Reliving it was another.

Joanne sat stiffly, her hands curled into the blanket as the weight of it all settled over her. Her gaze flickered to Jeffrey. He was watching her, concern etched into every line of his face. She knew he wanted to stay. She knew he wanted to hear everything. But she couldn’t let him.

Not this part.

The detective must have sensed her hesitation because he turned to Jeffrey. "Mr. Daniels, would you mind stepping outside?"

Jeffrey hesitated, but when Joanne refused to meet his eyes, he nodded and stepped out without a word.

The moment the door clicked shut, guilt twisted in her chest. Why did she feel guilty? This wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault. And yet, the feeling clawed at her anyway.

With a steadying breath, she told the officers everything—how Tom had stormed in with the bat, how she had tried to run, how he had struck her before she could reach her gun.

Then came the question she had dreaded.

"Have you had previous interactions with Tom Sullivan?"

The past slammed into her like a tidal wave, an old scar splitting open.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to speak. She told them about that night when she was a teenager—the night Tom had slipped into her room while she was in the bathroom. How she had stepped out, expecting Liam, only to find Tom waiting. How, in her panic, she had tried to shut the door, but he had forced his way in.

If Liam hadn’t arrived when he did...

Her voice faltered.

The officers exchanged glances before one of them asked the inevitable. "Why didn’t you report it?"

Joanne let out a breathless laugh, bitter, exhausted. "I was young. I was scared. And Liam... he handled it. Tom swore he’d never even look in my direction again."

But that was a lie, wasn’t it?

Because Tom never really stopped.

She told them everything else—every unwanted stare, every veiled threat, every time he made her skin crawl over the years.

The officers listened, recording it all, their faces neutral, professional.

Joanne knew this was necessary. She needed to say it. Needed to make sure there was no doubt about who the real monster was.

When they were done, they asked a few more follow-up questions before finally leaving.

Joanne exhaled, sinking deeper into the pillows.

It was over.

At least, for now.

She stared at the door. She knew Jeffrey was just outside, probably pacing, probably worrying. And now, he probably had questions.

She didn’t want to see his face right now.

Not because she didn’t trust him.

Not because she didn’t love him.

But because she hated the thought of him seeing her like this—vulnerable, tainted by a past she wished didn’t exist.

With a deep breath, she turned her gaze to the ceiling, willing herself to pull it together before he walked back in.

Jeffrey stood by the door, hesitating.

His fingers curled into fists, then relaxed. He took a deep breath, but it did little to quiet the storm in his chest.

When she asked him to leave, it had stung. He hadn’t had the time to dissect his emotions, but hurt lingered beneath the surface, sharp and raw.

He understood why she didn’t want him there. He did. But that didn’t make it easier to accept.

A part of him was angry... angry that she thought he didn’t deserve to know, that she chose to bear it alone instead of letting him shoulder even a fraction of her pain.

But this wasn’t about him.

She had been the one to suffer. She had every right to decide how she wanted to deal with it. Not him.

Still... he wished she would let him in.

Pushing aside his thoughts, he exhaled and stepped into the room.

Joanne’s eyes were already on him. She looked utterly spent, the weight of exhaustion dragging down her features.

"Do you need anything?" he asked gently. She had just come out of surgery. She needed rest, not questions.

"Jeffrey..." she whispered, reaching out a hand.

The pain medication had started to take effect, but there was something else in her expression—a heaviness, a lingering unease, as if something wasn’t sitting right in her heart.

Jeffrey moved to her side immediately, taking her hand in his.

"Jeffrey..." she said again, her voice softer this time.

"What is it? Do you need something?" he asked, his frustration fading the moment he saw the pain etched on her face.

She held his hand a little tighter. "I’m truly glad you’re here..."

His chest ached.

He wanted to tell her that she hadn’t really wanted him there when she was reliving her trauma. That it had hurt to be pushed away. But he swallowed the words down.

Instead, he just held her hand, brushing his thumb lightly over her knuckles.

Slowly, her breathing evened out, and she drifted into sleep.

Jeffrey watched her as she slept. Even though she hadn’t told him everything, at least she had reached for him now.

That was enough. For now.

By morning, the hospital room was overflowing with flowers, fruit baskets, and get-well-soon cards. The scent of fresh blooms mixed with the sterile hospital air, creating an oddly comforting atmosphere.

Jeffrey had been fretting over what to get Joanne for breakfast, but Patrick’s wife, Mary, arrived with a warm homemade meal before he could decide. Fiona handled lunch, and during visiting hours, a steady stream of people came by.

Some, Jeffrey noted, seemed to admire Joanne deeply. Others... well, they respected her, even if they didn’t necessarily like her.

But one thing was clear: Joanne mattered to a lot of people.

She spent most of the day in and out of sleep, her body still recovering. Meanwhile, Jeffrey kept busy: listening to updates from Liam, digesting every detail about Tom’s legal situation in silence.

Liam studied him for a moment, then asked, "Is something bothering you?"

Jeffrey shrugged, his jaw tightening. Did it even matter how he felt right now? Joanne had just survived a brutal attack. A brain injury. Was there really room for his own feelings in all this?

Liam smirked knowingly. "She’s a tough nut to crack, huh? I thought she’d be different with you, but..." He shook his head. "Old habits die hard."

Jeffrey frowned, his brows drawing together.

"What are you talking about?"

Liam just sighed, giving him a look that suggested he knew something Jeffrey didn’t.