Love Rents A Room
Chapter 46: The Prince Boy

Chapter 46: The Prince Boy

JD watched from a distance, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He knew what was happening—he could see it in the way her shoulders shook, the way she knelt in the dirt like she had lost something far more important.

She was breaking.

His usual self—the selfish, self-preserving version of him that had ruled his life for years—whispered in his heart: Let her be.

She wasn’t his girlfriend.

She didn’t owe him her sadness.

Hell, she didn’t even talk to him anymore.

She was dating another man. She made that choice. She broke his heart, not the other way around.

So why should he care?

But before he could stop himself, he was moving. No—he was running toward her.

This wasn’t the first time he had gone against his own instincts when it came to her. And he sure as hell knew it wouldn’t be the last.

When he reached her, he didn’t speak. He simply sank onto the ground beside her, pulling his knees up, staring out at the wildflowers swaying in the breeze.

His heart twisted painfully at the sound of her sobs.

He had no idea what to do. He knew what he wanted to do—pull her into his arms, hold her, kiss her until the pain disappeared. But he knew that wasn’t what she needed.

That wasn’t his place. So he just sat there.

Because he couldn’t leave her alone.

Because something deep inside him ached at the thought of her hurting like this.

Joanne sobbed for a while, lost in her own storm of emotions, but gradually, she felt a warmth beside her—blocking the cold wind that swept through the trees. And along with that warmth, came a scent she had grown used to. A familiar, woody scent.

She wiped her eyes, her breath still uneven.

Someone was beside her.

It won’t be Patrick.

No one else would sit this close without a word.

JD.

Embarrassment flooded her now that the storm had passed. She must have looked awful—tear-streaked and puffy-eyed. She didn’t dare look at him.

"What are you doing here?" she muttered, her voice still thick with emotion.

JD hesitated. "Are you mad at me?"

The question came so quietly, so uncertain, that Joanne finally turned her head slightly toward him.

Was he afraid he had violated her space? That she didn’t want him here?

She sighed, shaking her head. "Jeffrey trampled the snowdrops I planted."

JD followed her gaze to the ruined patch of earth. Jeffrey. That damn horse. But JD had a feeling the flowers weren’t the real reason she had cried so hard.

His gaze drifted across the wildflower field, the soft glow of the setting sun painting everything in gold.

"This place has a rustic charm," he murmured.

Who would have thought that at thirty years old, he would be sitting in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by wildflowers, beside the most beautiful woman he had ever seen?

Life was unpredictable that way.

Joanne smiled, the sadness still lingering in her eyes. "It looks beautiful, doesn’t it?" She let out a soft breath. "I almost died here once..."

JD’s gaze sharpened at her words, his body instinctively tensing. Almost died? He didn’t say anything, though—just watched as her brows furrowed, lost in memory.

She stared out at the wildflowers, but her mind was far away—back to a different time, a different version of herself.

Back then, she was twelve—about the same age as Charlotte now. She was wilder, though. Restless. Always running around, her energy endless.

It had been a hard time for her grandfather. He had lost money somehow—she never knew exactly how, only that they struggled. She wore her cousins’ hand-me-downs—boy clothes, stiff and awkward. And her aunt had made sure she never forgot it.

She hated those clothes. She hated that she didn’t get to wear puffy dresses like other girls. She hated—God, she hated—being an orphan. She hated the nickname more.

"Orphan Annie."

That’s what everyone at school called her. Everyone except Liam.

Liam never let them call her that. He fought for her, and kept the bullies at bay. He had always been the popular kid, even back then.

Joanne’s lips pressed together as she thought about Liam. He was just... there, always. She didn’t even remember meeting him. She couldn’t recall a time when they weren’t side by side.

But she did remember the day she met him.

Jeffrey Winchester.

That was the first time they had ever seen a Rolls-Royce. It was parked by the dirt road, and a tired old man was telling his grandson, whose face they couldn’t see at first—who looked about as tall as Liam—to pee in the woods if he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Joanne and Liam had been enthralled.

The boy refused, complaining about how disgusting that was, and his grandfather—clearly exasperated—kept arguing with him.

It was hilarious.

Joanne had waited eagerly, wondering if the snobby rich kid would actually do it.

And then she saw him.

The boy with perfectly coiffed red hair—her kind, Joanne had thought in surprise, seeing that they shared the same color. He had striking green eyes, refined features—he looked just like Prince Charming from a fairytale.

Was she mesmerized!

Liam had wanted to talk to him. They were new to town, after all, and he was always friendly. But Joanne... Joanne hesitated.

She didn’t know why.

She only knew that she didn’t want that Prince Boy to see her looking like this—wearing old, baggy boys’ clothes, covered in dirt from biking all day.

She didn’t want to meet him like this.

She and Liam had spent the rest of the day riding around town, as usual. She had pushed the strange feeling aside, forgotten about it by the time she went home for dinner.

And then she saw him.

Sitting in her house.

At the dining table.

With his grandfather.

Her grandfather had invited them.

Her heart sank.

She had never cared about how she looked before. Her grandfather never cared—he had never made her feel like she was anything less than precious to him.

But the moment she saw that boy sitting there, his sharp green eyes flicking up to her, she had wanted to disappear.

Without a word, she turned and bolted up the stairs.

Ashamed.

She was so ashamed.

She didn’t even want to eat, even though she was starving.

She had nothing nice to wear. She had nothing that would make her look... pretty.

But her grandfather called her down.

So, she had bathed—scrubbed herself clean—and put on the best pajamas she had before going downstairs.

She had barely lifted her head when her grandfather introduced their guests.

"Jeffrey."

That was his name.

That was the Prince Boy’s name.