Love Rents A Room
Chapter 161: His Presence

Chapter 161: His Presence

Joanne peeked up from where her cheek pressed against Jeffrey’s chest, her voice quiet but tinged with the hint of mischief that only surfaced when she felt safe.

"What do we do with him?" she asked. Her eyes flicked to the groaning mess on the gravel. "He’s still breathing..."

Breathing. That was enough. More than enough, really.

Jeffrey opened his mouth, perhaps to offer a suggestion—not kind, certainly not lawful—but before a word left his lips, they both heard the low growl of an approaching engine. A familiar one.

Joanne lifted her head slightly. "Liam’s here..." she said, almost in disbelief, as a cloud of dust curled behind a battered pickup truck rolling down their driveway.

The vehicle came to a halt dangerously close to Tom’s body, the tires skimming his side and kicking up dirt right into his already bruised face.

Jeffrey’s brows raised. "Well, this is convenient," he muttered.

"So," Liam said coolly, stepping out of the truck, his tone as dry as his dusty boots. He stood tall over his brother’s pathetic, crumpled form. "I guessed right."

There was no flicker of sympathy in his face, not even a flinch of familial duty. Just resignation... and maybe satisfaction.

Tom reached out with shaking hands, clutching weakly at Liam’s ankle. "L-Liam... help me..."

Liam jerked away like he’d been burned. He stared at the two people on the porch—Joanne with her head leaning lightly against Jeffrey, both of them steady, calm, unbothered despite the wreckage at their feet.

They looked... content.

That was enough for Liam. That was all he needed to see.

Without a word, he grabbed his brother by the ankle and began dragging him across the gravel. Tom whimpered and struggled weakly, but it was no use. Liam hauled him like a bag of trash and, with one great heave, tossed him into the back of his truck. The thud was almost satisfying.

Then, as casually as he had arrived, Liam climbed back into the driver’s seat, threw the truck into gear, and drove off.

Joanne blinked. "He just... took him."

Jeffrey nodded. "Like a sack of manure."

They both stood in stunned silence for a beat.

And then, Joanne snorted.

Jeffrey looked at her, startled by the sound.

She laughed. A proper laugh—light, breathy, with no heaviness behind it. Like something inside her had finally cracked open and let the light in.

Jeffrey smiled too, warmth rushing into his chest like sunshine through a window.

"Come on," he said, brushing a bit of dust off her shoulder. "Let’s go home."

She nodded, still giggling softly as she leaned into him.

Behind them, the dust settled. And ahead, peace waited.

That night, Joanne cooked.

It wasn’t anything extravagant—just a simple lasagna, golden cheese bubbling at the top, the smell of roasted garlic and herbs curling through the kitchen like a warm memory. But for Joanne, it was everything. Her body was still healing, but being back at the stove, moving with purpose and precision, felt like reclaiming a piece of her old self.

She was back. Maybe not entirely. But enough.

Jeffrey sat at the counter, chin resting on his hand as he watched her with quiet pride. "You know," he started, lifting a forkful of the lasagna, "I only did the online stuff. One-star reviews. Some data breaches. I even paid a guy to place a big order and back out last minute... but I’ve been hearing about actual gangs showing up at Tom’s dealership now. Breaking stuff. Vandalizing. That wasn’t me."

Joanne paused mid-slice, knife hovering above a tray of garlic bread. "Gangs?"

Jeffrey nodded slowly. "Someone else is working against Tom Sullivan. And whoever it is has influence around here."

She narrowed her eyes, brows furrowing in thought. "Could it be Grandpa’s old friends?" she mused. "Some of those men still keep in touch. If they caught wind of what Tom did..."

He saw the flicker of surprise and possibility flash across her face. It could be true. And yet, something about the idea unsettled him. Liam could be behind it. After all, Joanne’s acquaintances were his, too.

"Could be," he murmured, though his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

Jonathan Meyer.

Jeffrey had seen the man’s name on land records, community boards, even whisperings in law circles. He was one of the invisible hands that moved this part of the state. He came across that fact as he researched for Joanne’s sake. It wasn’t even surprising considering his lineage.

But why would he move for Joanne?

Then again... it was Joanne.

She had this maddening way of slipping into people’s lives and leaving behind a loyalty so fierce it made men burn bridges and build walls.

Jeffrey didn’t like it. He didn’t like that someone else might be fighting her battles behind the scenes.

Joanne was his.

Still, he shrugged it off for now. Tom was attacked from all sides and he deserved no peace for the rest of his life. "Well," he said, setting his fork down, "people either love you or hate you, Jo. There’s no middle ground."

She smiled, that familiar crooked grin that had melted him since the beginning. "You saying you love me to death, Jeffrey?"

He raised a brow. "I beat a man half to death and he was hauled away like compost. What do you think?"

She laughed and slid the garlic bread onto the table.

Jeffrey didn’t tell her about the man he’d hired. A shadow with no name, just a mission: rattle Tom Sullivan until he disappeared. And he would—Jeffrey had made sure of that. Tom wouldn’t go to the police. He wouldn’t go to court. The man would vanish, tail between his legs, running from every rustle in the wind.

Jeffrey would make sure the courts got their day, though. That part mattered. Justice had to be done—legally, publicly.

As for the congressman Tom would go crying to? He was already being circled by journalists with a scent for blood.

Let them come. Let them all come.

Tom Sullivan, and everyone who dared stand behind him, were finished.

-----

The days passed in a soft blur, like clouds drifting over a blue sky. Joanne kept busy, tending to the farm, checking on her animals more times than she needed to, and organizing every tiny detail with a growing sense of unease. Every time she folded a piece of clothing into her suitcase, she folded a little bit of anxiety with it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go—it was just... she’d never been. Never left the country. Never boarded a private jet. Never had her name whispered into elite circles or her presence awaited like some sort of event. And yet, Philip Winchester treated her as though she were the main star of the Wimbledon weekend. He even called her—not to ask—but to inform her that his private jet would be flying her over.

No room for objections. No space for doubts.

Joanne had never met someone like Philip. He reminded her of a king in a storybook—decisive, commanding, warm in unexpected ways. But the truth was, she wasn’t so sure she was ready to meet his world again.

She worried about her animals, about the hands she’d entrusted to care for them. The horses would sulk. The goats would escape their enclosures just to prove a point. But every time that panic crept in, she looked at Jeffrey.

He didn’t say much and hadn’t revealed everything about his past, but that was alright. He was here in her present, a strong tree to lean on, grounding her and helping her breathe through the chaos.

Sometimes, in the quiet hours, she’d catch him looking at her—like he was memorizing her for some moment in the future. She knew there was something more behind those green eyes, something he was holding onto. But she didn’t press. She trusted he’d open up when the time was right.

For now, she had a suitcase to finish. And a journey to prepare for.

She was about to take a step into a world she never imagined she’d touch. But maybe, with Jeffrey beside her, she wouldn’t just survive it.

Maybe she’d belong.

And on the day they were leaving, a big news broke.

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