Love Rents A Room -
Chapter 158: Falling In Love All Over Again
Chapter 158: Falling In Love All Over Again
Joanne slipped quietly into the barn that morning, the familiar scent of hay and the soft shuffling of hooves grounding her more than she realized she needed. Her fingers gently brushed over Mr. Darcy’s neck, played with Jeffrey, then over the smaller frame of the lamb she’d named Daisy. All her dogs surrounded her, in a quiet way to tell her that they had missed her.
It calmed her—being there, among creatures who loved her in that simple, unspoken way.
Jason was filming. Apparently, her followers were asking about her in the comments. She adjusted the wide-brimmed hat on her head, making sure it covered everything as she waved for the camera. It wasn’t vanity. It was armor. Until her hair grew back, until she could look in the mirror without flinching, she needed this small shield.
She was picked apart for every single thing as she grew up. She tried to be confident, but it was hard.
Her phone buzzed. Jeffrey.
She picked up, and before he could say anything more than "Morning," she was already trying to dodge the appointment. Her voice was light, teasing, full of excuses—The animals needed her, the sun was too nice to waste indoors, wasn’t she healing just fine without another check-up?
But Jeffrey didn’t even blink. His tone was firm, direct, and completely unfazed by her antics.
"You’re going," he said. "Be ready."
It should have annoyed her. Someone telling her what to do, not even entertaining her excuses—but it didn’t. The command in his voice was lined with something soft. Love. Concern. A kind of steady, stubborn care that wrapped around her in ways she never knew she needed.
She smiled after hanging up, a little flutter blooming in her chest.
By the time he came to pick her up, she was waiting by the door, bundled up and hat firmly in place. He stopped short when he saw her, eyes narrowing playfully.
"Are we going to rob a bank?" he asked, one brow raised. "What’s with the hat?"
Joanne pouted, clutching the edges of the brim protectively. She didn’t want to take it off. What if today was the day they removed the bandages? What if there really was a bald spot underneath? A glaring, permanent mark that reminded her—and everyone else—of what she’d gone through?
"I need it," she said quietly.
That was all she said. And that was all it took.
Jeffrey’s expression softened instantly. The teasing vanished from his eyes. He stepped forward, brushing her jacket collar gently back into place. No more jokes. No more questions.
"Okay," he said. Simple. Solid. Steady.
And somehow, in that small moment, in the silence that followed, she felt seen—understood in the way that only he could manage.
They walked out together, side by side, her hand brushing against his as he reached to open the door.
The car ride to the hospital was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Jeffrey kept one hand on the wheel and the other reaching across to hold hers. His thumb brushed circles over her skin—casual, rhythmic, grounding. Joanne didn’t say much, but every now and then she’d glance sideways and catch him already looking at her. It made her smile in spite of the nerves building in her chest.
Hospitals made her anxious. Always had. She could handle them when it was someone else in the examination room. But being the patient? That was different.
She squeezed his hand a little tighter.
He parked close to the entrance and turned to her, his voice soft. "Hey. We’re just checking the stitches. It’s nothing, okay?"
Joanne didn’t answer right away. She stared out the windshield. "What if... it didn’t heal right? What if it leaves a scar, or I lose more hair?"
Jeffrey tilted his head, watching her. Then, without a word, he reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"I already told you," he murmured. "You’re beautiful. Whether there’s a scar or not. Whether there’s hair or not. That doesn’t change."
She gave him a wary look. "You’re saying that now."
"I’ll say it tomorrow. And the day after. And ten years from now."
Joanne rolled her eyes, but a blush crept into her cheeks. "You’re such a sap."
"Only for you," he said with a grin, unbuckling his seatbelt.
The doctor’s office carried that familiar scent of antiseptic—the sharp, sterile tang that made Joanne sit a little stiffer on the edge of the examination table. The chill in the air wasn’t just from the overpowered air conditioning; it was the kind of cold that clung to hospital walls, clinical and impersonal.
Jeffrey stood near the window, arms crossed, pretending to look out, but his gaze kept flicking back to her. He didn’t speak much, but his quiet presence, the way he never looked away when her eyes found his, gave her more comfort than she’d expected.
When they led her away for tests, Jeffrey stayed behind with the doctor. He didn’t waste time with small talk. His questions were direct—Was it normal for her to be this exhausted all the time? Was the healing progressing well? Could there be long-term effects?
The doctor, patient but clearly used to worried partners, assured him that Joanne’s body was healing at a good pace, and rest was part of that process. But sensing Jeffrey’s barely concealed worry, he agreed to run another set of blood tests—just to rule out anything else. When Jeffrey asked, almost too casually, if she’d be able to travel overseas in a week, the doctor gave a small smile and said it would be fine, as long as there were no new symptoms.
Only then did the tight line of Jeffrey’s shoulders begin to loosen.
Joanne returned a few minutes later, rubbing at the spot where they had drawn her blood. "I’m fine," she said lightly, though she didn’t quite understand why the tests were needed again. Still, she didn’t question it.
The nurse removed her bandages next, and the doctor checked her stitches, nodding in approval. "Healing beautifully," he said.
But Joanne didn’t hear it as praise. All she could feel was the air brushing against the exposed patch on her scalp. She fixed her hair quickly, subtly adjusting the strands to hide the bald spot. Her fingers trembled slightly. Even if it was healing, it still felt like a flaw.
Jeffrey was waiting outside the room when she stepped out. His face lit up the moment he saw her, no trace of hesitation or judgment in his expression. Just that same softness he always gave her, like she was still the same girl he fell for—even now, especially now.
She walked toward him, self-conscious and awkward, fiddling with her hair. And without a word, he reached for her hand. His grip was warm, solid. He didn’t let go.
"You’re pretty," he said as they walked out. "No matter what. Don’t worry about how you look."
She blinked, startled. He hadn’t even glanced at her when he said it—his gaze was fixed ahead. But he’d read her mind like it was written in bold across her face. Somehow, without needing to see, he had seen everything.
Joanne looked up at him. In the sunlight filtering through the glass entrance, his eyes shimmered—green with flecks of gold, full of warmth and quiet certainty.
Where did that little boy go? The one who followed her around whispering, "As you wish" with stars in his eyes. He’d grown into this man beside her—confident, steady, breathtaking in the most unassuming way.
And just like that, her heart did something she didn’t expect.
It skipped.
Like it had all those years ago.
Like it had never stopped.
Like falling in love all over again.
The smell of warm fries and char-grilled meat still lingered in the car as they drove in comfortable silence. Joanne nibbled on a fry with little enthusiasm—it didn’t taste bad, but it didn’t taste right either. She never cared for fast food, not when she could make better in her own kitchen. Still, it was the thought that counted. Especially since she could tell he was trying.
But when Jeffrey took an unexpected exit, her posture straightened. The familiarity of the path tugged at her memory. By the time they turned onto a narrow trail framed by tall trees and whispering grass, a spark of recognition lit her eyes.
She didn’t ask where they were going. She already knew.
When the truck came to a stop, she smiled, already a step ahead as he popped open the back. Out came a fishing pole and—her eyebrows arched slightly—a self-defense weapon.
"Do you fish now?" she teased, hands on her hips as he slung the rod over his shoulder.
"Are we going camping?"
Jeffrey turned his head and gave her that look—the kind that spoke without saying a word. She caught the unspoken question in his gaze: Would you even stay away from your animals for a night?
Joanne burst out laughing. "You know I wouldn’t," she said, following him down the gentle slope toward the river.
There was no tent, no cooler, no sign of a long stay. This wasn’t about camping.
He unfolded a chair for her and motioned for her to sit. She did, tucking her knees up and gazing out at the gentle, steady river. The sun filtered through the leaves above, dancing across the water like flecks of melted gold. It was quiet—peaceful in a way only nature could offer.
Jeffrey settled near the edge, casting the fishing line out with more confidence than she expected. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
For a while, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves, the occasional splash from the river, and the slow hum of summer.
Then his voice, low and even, broke the quiet.
"Are you going to disappoint the old man by not going to Wimbledon?"
Joanne, who had nearly drifted off in her chair, blinked awake. The question settled into her chest like a pebble dropped into still water.
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