Love Rents A Room
Chapter 154: She Let Him Know Her Heart

Chapter 154: She Let Him Know Her Heart

Joanne leaned into Jeffrey’s chest, letting the soft, rhythmic sound of his heartbeat soothe her as his hand traced slow, absent-minded circles on her back. Still, something in his body language betrayed him—his warmth was more feverish than comforting, and tension coiled in his muscles like a wire pulled too tight.

He had told her he wasn’t leaving. He had said he loved her.

And yet... his touch, though gentle, was weighed down by something he hadn’t yet said.

She could feel it now, pulsing beneath his skin—guilt, regret, fear... something that clawed at him from the inside out.

She remembered what he’d whispered earlier, almost too quietly for her to catch.

"I don’t deserve you."

She hadn’t asked what he meant—too caught up in her own emotions—but now that the storm had passed, the words echoed in her mind. What was he hiding? What burden was he carrying?

Was this about the wedding all those years ago? About the identity he still refused to reveal?

Maybe he needed to hear what she had never said out loud. That even if he were that man—the one she was supposed to hate—she would still love him. She already did.

"Hey, Jeffrey..." she murmured, slipping her hand beneath his shirt and resting her palm over his heart. She loved the feeling of his skin, the way his heartbeat answered her touch. It grounded her... anchored her.

Jeffrey tilted his head slightly to look at her, brows furrowed in quiet curiosity.

"Do you know why I named Jeffrey... Jeffrey?" she asked, her voice light but steady. If she was going to help him carry whatever this was, she had to start somewhere. And what better place than the horse—than the namesake?

Jeffrey blinked. "Isn’t it because he’s a psycho squirrel-killer?"

Joanne chuckled, her cheek rubbing against his chest. She didn’t look up, didn’t need to. This moment wasn’t about watching his expression—it was about offering him her heart without demanding anything in return.

She shifted slightly to snuggle closer, keeping her fingers tracing lazy shapes against his skin.

"You probably remember from that video that I said I refused Jeffrey Winchester, right?" she said, voice softer now.

She felt his chest stiffen under her touch. His heartbeat skipped.

He hummed in response. A low sound. Barely there.

"Well..." she continued, exhaling a soft breath, "I didn’t actually get the chance to refuse him. He ran away before the wedding even started."

A bittersweet laugh escaped her. Odd, how something that once hurt so much now felt like a distant bruise—still tender, but no longer aching.

"You were going to reject him?" Jeffrey asked, voice a notch quieter, guarded.

She shook her head against him, her smile tinged with old pain. "I don’t know. Maybe. I had this feeling he didn’t want it. He never came to the rehearsal dinner. Never showed his face. I figured forcing it would be a mistake."

She paused, her fingers curling gently against his chest.

"And also..." she swallowed.

His family’s insult—that hurt. Still.

Jeffrey closed his eyes, jaw tightening.

He had never considered that angle before—not fully. But now, the puzzle pieces fit. His grandfather had found him that night. He could’ve dragged him to that altar, could’ve made him go through with it. But he hadn’t.

Because she had backed out.

Because Joanne, strong and principled as she was, refused to be someone’s pity bride.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His grandfather hadn’t stopped the wedding for him.

He’d done it for her.

And somehow, that realization made the guilt twist deeper.

All this time, she had been carrying the weight of that day with grace. And he—the very man who had disappeared—was right here, holding her, still too afraid to tell her who he really was.

Would she still love him when she knew the whole truth?

That he wasn’t just the boy who once said "you’re mine"... he was the man who had abandoned her.

"Also?" Jeffrey asked. There was something more to it. He needed to know. He needed to know how much she endured that day.

Joanne’s voice softened, but the weight of the past sat heavily in the space between them.

"Also... his family made it clear I wasn’t good enough." She didn’t mean to say it with bitterness—but old wounds, no matter how well-hidden, had a way of bleeding through quiet words.

Jeffrey closed his eyes, a sharp pang cutting through his chest. Of course they did. Of course they made her feel that way.

He still remembered how his mother egged him on to leave the wedding when he was half-hearted about hurting his grandfather. And he knew about his mother’s poisonous tongue. With that venomous tongue of hers, she would have cruelly whipped Joanne. His cousins would have joined in the fun. They always wanted to mock anything related to him. Joanne would have been the perfect fodder.

They must have made her feel unworthy of him.

But it was him who was unworthy of her.

His hand stilled on her back. "Joanne..." he whispered, her name breaking in his throat.

"I don’t want to talk about them, but Jeffrey... I didn’t know him, really," she continued, still resting against his chest. "But I had this stupid little hope that he’d show up. Maybe not for the wedding, but at least to tell me he didn’t want it—to say it like a man. I guess... that’s what hurt more than anything else. That he didn’t show up at all."

Jeffrey’s heart clenched. He could feel the echo of her disappointment. The way she’d buried that hope. The way she tried so hard to be brave.

His voice came low, thick with emotion. "He’s an asshole."

Joanne was quiet for a moment. "I was hurt and I named the horse after him so that I could cuss him all I want..." she said, her tone unreadable. Then, with a small sigh, she added, "But I think... He was justified. He didn’t have to force himself to marry a stranger. But still, if I had just seen him once, looked him in the eyes, I would’ve known the truth."

She tilted her head up just slightly, brushing her cheek along his skin. "Eyes don’t lie, Jeffrey. Not yours, anyway."

That single sentence shattered something inside him.

He held her tighter, desperate almost—desperate not to let her slip away again.

She always would have recognized him.

His voice trembled when he spoke. "Jo..."

She shifted to look at him, and for a second, the whole world stopped. Her eyes—those same deep, steady eyes from that day under the oak tree—were looking right into him.

Not through him.

Into him.

"I have no ill feeling toward Jeffrey Winchester now. I blame the situation more than him..." she shrugged and leaned on his chest again.

Jeffrey’s hand about to pat her back paused.

He can never tell her the truth, can he?