Love Rents A Room
Chapter 58: The Man She Killed

Chapter 58: The Man She Killed

JD didn’t bother answering.

What was there to say, anyway? His love life was worse than a teen drama.

The boys tried to get words out of Jeffrey, but instead of indulging them, he simply got up and headed upstairs with two cans of beers, leaving the teens to speculate among themselves.

As he reached the landing, he spotted Joanne gently closing the door to her grandfather’s room, book in hand. JD knew how sacred that room was to her—a space untouched, a quiet shrine to the man who raised her. Even he wasn’t allowed in there.

But tonight, it seemed, was an exception.

"They wanted to sleep together," Joanne explained softly, offering a small, tired smile.

JD nodded. It made sense. After everything they’d been through, those kids needed the comfort of each other.

Joanne never liked letting people into her Papaw’s room. Normally, she would’ve had them stay in JD’s room instead. But tonight was different. Her grandfather would forgive her for it. She was sure of it.

JD studied her for a moment. She looked exhausted. And after everything that had happened today, it was clear she hadn’t even thought about Jonathan. JD wanted to keep it that way.

"You look spent," he murmured.

Joanne let out a deep sigh, confirming what he already knew.

"Come on," JD said, jerking his head toward his room. "Have a beer with me."

Joanne hesitated for a second, then nodded.

"Sure."

And with that, she followed him inside.

"Wait a minute."

Joanne rolled her eyes. Of course.

She already knew what JD was about to do. She’d noticed the infamous "clothes chair" when she cleaned his room earlier. Why did men insist on having that one chair just to pile up their clothes?

When JD finally granted her "permission" to enter, she nearly laughed out loud. The chair was still full.

What did he even do? Spray some air freshener? She could smell it.

Shaking her head, she walked in, sat at the foot of the bed, and stretched out her legs. JD settled beside her, their shoulders grazing.

"You could put an ottoman here," he commented.

Joanne glanced at him. "Do you want one?"

"No." JD shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. He liked sitting like this. With her.

A quiet settled between them, comfortable but heavy. JD wanted to ask her something—something important.

Her hands had been shaking earlier when she held the gun. With all the firearms she owned, he had assumed she’d be steady under pressure. He’d seen her riding that massive Shire horse, shotgun in hand, chasing off wild hogs without so much as flinching.

So why had she been trembling tonight?

He had a feeling it had something to do with that killing. The one people in town whispered about.

"I’m glad the kids showed up when they did," Joanne finally said. "Could’ve been worse."

JD ran his tongue over his lips, debating whether to say it. Now was his chance.

"You were scared." His voice was quiet, careful. "You had a gun. You aren’t scared of wild hogs and bears, but..."

He trailed off, giving her space to answer—or not.

Joanne looked down, running a finger absently around the rim of her beer can. Thinking.

"You know I killed my cousin, right?" Her voice was neutral, but she didn’t meet his eyes. Did she think he believed the rumors?

JD didn’t say anything. He just waited.

She took a deep breath. "It was a situation like this."

JD saw the way her fingers clenched slightly around the can.

"Back then, my company was just starting to turn a profit. Sam Smith—my cousin, the one who still comes around—was living here. In this room." She looked around, as if seeing the past overlaying the present.

She let out a slow breath before continuing. "I had a safe at home to store cash. It’s just what people did around here—what my Papaw did. Never thought much of it. This town felt safe. Until that night."

She paused, then took a long gulp of beer.

JD stayed silent, watching her closely. He wanted to remember this moment, etch her expressions into his mind.

She was showing him a side of herself she hadn’t shown anyone. It crushed him—and yet, at the same time, it made him feel something else. Something he wasn’t ready to name.

His fingers twitched in his lap. He wanted to hold her hand. But he didn’t.

"Sam told me he was staying at a friend’s that night," Joanne continued, her voice quieter now. "So I locked up as usual and went to sleep. Then... I heard noises."

JD could see it in her eyes—she was back there. Reliving it.

"Fluffy was a baby then. My other dogs were with the sheep, so they didn’t bark much. But I was scared. So scared."

She let out a shaky breath. "Thumping footsteps... whispered voices... dark figures moving in the house..."

JD clenched his jaw. Even as a man, he’d be terrified if that happened to him. But Joanne was alone.

Without thinking, he reached over and took her hand.

She didn’t pull away.

"Two men," she whispered. "Dressed in black. I pointed a gun at them. Told them to leave. But one of them—Noah—he lunged at me. Knife in hand."

Her voice cracked.

"It was dark. I couldn’t recognize his voice. And I—" She stopped, swallowed hard.

She shot him. The bullet went straight through his skull. He died instantly, right there in the living room. Only after the ski mask was removed did Joanne realize who it was.

Noah.

Sam’s brother.

She called emergency services immediately, but it was too late. Noah was dead. And Sam—her own cousin—changed the story. He claimed she had planned the murder for inheritance money.

There was an investigation. A trial. She hired good lawyers.

Under pressure, Sam cracked. He confessed the truth, and the jury ruled the shooting as justifiable self-defense.

She had been cleared by the courts, but not in the court of public opinion.

People who believed her, believed her. The ones who were jealous of her success? They still whispered, still spread the lie Sam originally told—even after he recanted.

Joanne let out a slow breath, gripping JD’s hand tightly now.

"That’s why my hands were shaking," she murmured. "It felt too much like that night. What will happen if I use the "self-defense" argument again? I was scared what people might say if it repeated. Not to mention the fact that his kids were right inside his house. What will they think when they grow up and what if they resent me for taking their father from them?"

Her breath got labored as all the questions bombarded her.

JD squeezed her fingers, grounding her.

Slowly, Joanne gathered her courage to look at JD’s face.

Did he trust her? Was he judging her?