Love Rents A Room
Chapter 195: He Left, Again

Chapter 195: He Left, Again

"You don’t have to stay," Jeffrey murmured as he wiped her neck and face gently with a warm towel.

Joanne’s smile faltered.

The glow that had lit her face moments ago dimmed, shadowed by something quiet and sharp. She knew he meant well. Her rational mind reminded her that Jeffrey was on the cusp of closing the Chapter on everything that had torn them apart. But still...

It hurt.

It hurt that he was pushing her away again, choosing to shoulder everything alone.

"I’m hurting too, Jo," he said softly. "I’m leaving you alone to handle your problems. I know how it feels."

"Exactly," she replied, her voice tight. "That’s why we need to be together. That’s the whole point, Jeffrey."

He hesitated. "Jo, I..."

But she didn’t want excuses. Not this time.

Joanne turned her face away from him and lay on her side, showing him her back—closing herself off. Her silence was louder than anything she could have said.

"I just need to get through this Imperium mess," he said.

"You always get your way," she said sharply. "This time, I want to get mine. You need to listen to me."

Jeffrey sat still, watching the tense lines in her back. She was trying so hard to be strong, and still, she felt shut out.

"Jo... please..." he whispered, reaching for her, trying to gently roll her toward him.

But she buried her face into the pillow and refused to look at him.

"Jo..." he tried again, pleading.

Still, nothing.

He touched her shoulder. She shook it off. His heart sank.

Then suddenly, her voice cut through the silence.

"Everyone’s having babies," Joanne cried, her voice cracking under the weight of months—no, years—of longing. "I want babies too! If you’re not going to stay with me, I’ll find someone who will. I don’t care who he is, as long as he’s a man. Bonus if he’s blonde! I want blonde kids. A lot of them!"

Her heart throbbed in her chest, not just from anger, but from ache. She couldn’t stop thinking about Liam’s little boy—his head full of thick, honey-blonde hair and those wide, innocent blue eyes that seemed to hold the entire sky. Every time he smiled, the world felt gentler. Safer.

She was happy for Liam and Fiona, truly, but the jealousy curled quietly in her gut. A part of her wanted to scoop that cherub into her arms and never let go.

She wanted a baby.

Desperately.

She wasn’t going to wait around for Jeffrey to decide when the timing was right. She was done with waiting.

Jeffrey blinked, caught somewhere between shock and amusement. Then he scoffed. "Blonde? Really? Blonde doesn’t even look good on most men."

"Ginger does?" she snapped, whirling around just enough to glare at him through her tears. "I should’ve known better than to trust a ginger!"

That cracked something in him, and he laughed. A real laugh, low and rough and impossibly endearing. Before she could retreat again, he leaned in and gently nibbled at her earlobe. She swatted at him half-heartedly, but he was already slipping an arm around her waist, drawing her in, anchoring her.

His hand slid up her side, slow and reverent, cupping her breast with a tenderness that undid her.

"I’m not a ginger," he murmured into her skin. "You might be. But me? I’m auburn. Deep red. Rich. Complex. Superior gene pool, if we’re being honest. You should really consider me... seriously."

Joanne’s face flushed as she felt the undeniable press of him against her back. She tried—truly tried—not to smile, to hold onto her indignation. But it was impossible with him so close, so warm, so hers.

She wanted to stay mad.

But he knew her too well.

"We can have little redheads," Jeffrey murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her shoulder. "Or gingers. If we roll the dice enough, maybe we’ll even get a blonde or two..."

Joanne huffed, half-laughing into her pillow, still clinging to the remnants of her irritation.

"Seriously," he whispered, kissing the nape of her neck. "There are brunettes in my family. Plenty. My grandmother’s cousin? Blonde. So, Jo... there’s definitely a possibility. I swear."

Each word was a kiss, each promise a touch—his voice a velvet thread winding around her heart.

He was coaxing her with his lips, literally and figuratively. Offering a future not in numbers or certainty, but in hope. In warmth. In the sheer audacity of dreaming together.

And with a little teasing, a little tenderness, and the quiet truth of his body wrapped around hers, her walls gave way.

Just like that, the anger dissolved—soft and fleeting as morning frost under sunlight.

No more hesitation.

Only skin and breath and longing, aching to be transformed into something real.

To make something that was theirs.

A future.

A family.

Babies.

-----

"If you step out now, you won’t see me again. I swear."

Joanne’s voice trembled with anger, with heartbreak. She didn’t yell—she never needed to. Her words were enough. Sharp. Final.

Jeffrey hesitated at the threshold, the first blush of dawn outlining his silhouette. Then he turned back and sank to his knees before her, pressing his head into her lap like a man seeking absolution.

"Jo... I need to do this." His voice was low, strained. "Imperium needs to believe I’m against you. The success of everything depends on it."

Joanne scoffed, her fingers frozen in the air above his bowed head. She understood. Of course she understood. That was the curse—she always did. But that didn’t mean she accepted it. Not this time.

"Then this is the end of us," she said.

She knew even as she said it that she would regret those words. Knew she was being irrational, but for once, she didn’t care. She had always been the composed one, the one who bore the weight with grace. Maybe she was tired. Maybe she just wanted to be allowed to want something—someone—without compromise.

Jeffrey understood that. It made her even more beautiful to him. This flicker of rebellion, this rare glimpse of childish defiance—it was a side of her she never showed anyone else. Only him. And maybe, only now.

"Jo... please," he whispered, his hands gently encircling her waist. "Just go back and badmouth the Winchesters. The more you speak against me, the faster everything will fall into place."

She let out a bitter laugh. "You have the nerve to ask me anything after refusing me the one thing I asked for?" She turned away, hugging herself, folding her arms like a fortress. "Just go. I don’t want to see your face again."

Jeffrey didn’t argue. He didn’t beg further. He leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek—soft, reverent, painful.

"Don’t drink too much, Jo... Wait for me, just a little longer. I’ll come back for you," he whispered.

She didn’t turn around.

But as his footsteps faded and the door finally clicked shut behind him, tears welled up and spilled freely down her cheeks—quiet and unrelenting, like the ache in her chest.