Love Rents A Room
Chapter 56: More Visitors

Chapter 56: More Visitors

"Timmy! Get out right this instant!"

The drunken roar made Lizzy flinch so hard she nearly fell off her chair.

Joanne caught her just in time, her pulse pounding in her ears.

The rage bubbling inside her was instant, hot, righteous.

That man had the audacity to show up here? After letting his kids run away in the first place?

JD was already on his feet. His jaw clenched, eyes dark with barely restrained fury. "That son of a—"

Joanne held up a hand. "I’ll handle it."

JD scoffed. "Like hell you will."

But she was already moving, her mind sharpening like a blade. This wasn’t about her or Ian—it was about the children. She needed to de-escalate the situation before it spiraled out of control.

Just as she reached for the door, her dogs’ barking intensified. Something was off. They weren’t just reacting to a stranger—they sensed danger.

Joanne froze. Ian Walsh stood outside, swaying slightly, his stance unsteady from alcohol. But it wasn’t his drunken rage that sent a chill down her spine. It was the gun in his hand.

She met JD’s eyes, her breath hitching. JD, already on edge, instinctively reached for the gun she kept nearby.

"JD," she whispered urgently. "Get the kids to my room." They didn’t need to see this.

Ian shouted something unintelligible, slurring his threats. Then, without warning, he fired a shot.

The deafening crack split the night, and the dogs yelped, backing away. Joanne’s grip tightened into fists. If he so much as grazed one of her dogs...

Beside her, JD’s entire body tensed. The veins in his neck bulged with restrained fury, his knuckles white around the gun.

"I’ll—" JD started, but Joanne yanked at the gun in his hands.

"No," she hissed, her grip like iron. He wasn’t letting go, but neither was she. "Do you even have a license? This is my house, my gun. You’d be the one in trouble if you use it."

JD’s jaw clenched, but he loosened his grip just enough for her to hold it but he didn’t let go of the gun.

She dialed James. He picked up on the first ring.

"He’s here," she said without preamble. "Ian’s here. He has a gun, and he just fired a shot."

"Shit," James cursed. "I’m twenty minutes out. Stay your ground, Joanne. It’s your property. We’ll deal with it later."

She knew exactly what he meant. Their state had a strict castle law. If Ian forced his way inside, she had every legal right to defend herself.

She knew all about self-defense laws in her state anyways.

"Should I call Sullivan?" James asked. "He’s two minutes away."

"No." She cut him off. Liam had a life. A wife. He didn’t need to be dragged into her problems tonight. "Just get here as fast as you can."

Ian kept shouting, his voice hoarse with anger. The dogs wouldn’t stop barking, their instincts sharper than hers could ever be.

"The cops are coming," Joanne said. "JD, take the kids upstairs."

JD hesitated but eventually released the gun.

Then, a small, trembling voice shattered whatever focus she had left.

"He’s mad," Timmy whispered. His big, wary eyes locked onto hers. "Is he going to kill us tonight?"

Joanne’s breath caught.

"No," she said, forcing a soft smile, though her hands clenched around the gun. "You’re safe here, Timmy. I promise."

The boy didn’t seem convinced. His gaze dropped, his fists tightening.

"I hope they kill him," he muttered.

Joanne stiffened. "What?"

Timmy lifted his head. His expression was blank—eerily so. "The cops," he said in a hollow voice. "I hope they kill him before he kills us."

A chill ran down Joanne’s spine. It wasn’t hatred in his voice. It was something far worse. Resignation.

JD stepped forward, placing a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. "Come on," he said lightly. "Grab your plates. We’re having dinner in my room tonight."

The girls hesitated but followed his lead, reassured by his easygoing smile.

Joanne watched them disappear upstairs before pressing her back against the wall. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

She locked the door. Bolted the windows. Double-checked the gun. Her fingers tightened around the grip of the gun, the cold metal sending a chilling familiarity through her veins.

Not again.

She swallowed hard, willing her breath to steady. The past threatened to claw its way up her throat, but she pushed it down. She didn’t have the luxury of breaking down—not when there were children upstairs relying on her.

Outside, Ian raged like a storm. His drunken shouts were incoherent now, blending into the sharp barking of the dogs. Joanne could hear the crunch of his boots against the gravel, the uneven steps of a man too wasted to stand straight but still dangerous enough to be lethal.

She flicked the safety off.

Her stomach turned at the action. She never wanted to do this again. She never wanted to be in this position.

But Ian had brought a gun into her home. Had fired a shot at her dogs. Had made her children—because, for now, they were hers—fear for their lives.

She felt her pulse thud in her ears; her senses heightened. Twenty minutes. James would be here in twenty minutes.

A lot could happen in twenty minutes.

Joanne took a slow step toward the door, her heart hammering.

Ian’s shadow moved against the dim porch light. His breathing was loud, uneven.

"Joanne!" he bellowed. "You think you can take my kids from me? Huh?" He let out a bitter, slurred laugh. "You bitch, you don’t know what it means to be a parent. You ain’t got no kids of your own, do you? You ain’t got no man either!"

Joanne’s grip tightened.

He was right about one thing.

She never had children of her own. But she had once been a child just like Timmy, just like Hannah, just like Lizzy. A child scared and in he brink of death in the hands of an unstable beast.

And she’d be damned if she let these kids suffer the way she had.

"Ian," she called out, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart. "This is my property! You need to leave."

Silence.

Then—a click.

Joanne knew that sound.

He was cocking the gun.

Her breath caught, and her finger hovered over the trigger.

The next few seconds felt like an eternity.

Ian took a step closer. The porch creaked under his weight.

Her dogs growled.

Bang.

Joanne’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest as Ian pounded on the door. Her grip on the gun tightened, her breath shallow. She quickly checked the live feed on her phone, scanning for any sign that he was about to fire.

Then—her phone chimed.

Not Ian.

The front gate camera had picked up movement—several figures approaching the house.

Joanne’s stomach dropped. The boys.

Morgan and his friends—those reckless teenagers who often snuck onto her farm just to escape their own parents—were here. Now. In the middle of this.

Her pulse thundered. Why? Why tonight of all nights?