Somewhere down the hall, Joanne's voice rang out, barking a command at one of the dogs. The sound snapped JD back to the present, grounding him.
He cleaned up, relieved to find the small bathroom spotless. Cozy. For someone raised in extravagance, it was a concept he'd never truly understood—until two years of dirty motels and run-down trailer parks taught him its meaning.
Life is funny that way.
Donning his best sweatshirt, JD headed downstairs, only to be met with another surprise. The large dining table, capable of seating eight, was covered with a spread of dishes—proteins, carbs, desserts—enough for a banquet.
His hand instinctively went to his wallet. How much will this cost?
"Are you expecting company?" he asked, finally noticing Joanne. She stood by the counter, removing an apron, her simple green T-shirt and shorts a far cry from the rugged farmgirl image she wore earlier. She looked...
Beautiful.
Joanne blinked, confused. "No, it's just us. Help yourself."
Her casual response surprised him. Did she always cook this much? The sheer abundance made him feel awkward. With a hesitant chuckle, JD lowered himself into a chair. "Is food extra?"
The question threw her off. Did he think she'd charge him for dinner? "It's included in the five grand," she said, her smile faltering slightly.
JD stared at the spread, the rich aroma stirring his hunger until his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten all day. Yet even as his mouth watered, his mind calculated the dwindling $3,000 he had left. Every dollar mattered now. Once, he'd walked into stores without a second thought, buying whatever he wanted. That life was gone, stolen by one greedy woman. Now, even this home-cooked meal felt like a luxury he couldn't afford.
Joanne watched him as he began to eat, his movements deliberate, almost reverent. It was as if he were rediscovering food, savoring every bite. His eyes—pretty but burdened—spoke of exhaustion and pain. She'd seen that look before. This man had learned life's harsh lessons the hard way.
Her gaze shifted to his sweatshirt. It was from an expensive brand, though clearly worn and faded. He probably didn't own much now, just remnants of a life he'd lost. He was a man scraping by, trying to find his footing after losing everything.
Warmth bloomed in the corner of her heart, unbidden but undeniable. She remembered her own past, when she'd had nothing. Someone had helped her at just the right moment, lifting her out of the darkness.
Oh, Joanne… you're not about to help this Jeffrey, are you? Her mind wrestled with her heart. She was supposed to hate all Jeffreys, to guard herself from the disappointment they inevitably brought.
But it seemed her heart had already made its decision.
It reminded her of Jeffrey Dahmer, the horse she'd kept even when he proved useless for farm work. She couldn't send him away even though he was psychopathic. And Fluffy, her dog, had been meant to guard the property but turned out to be more of a cuddly lapdog, wagging his tail at strangers. She'd renamed him Jeffrey McFluffy to detach herself, to send him to a shelter, but two years later, here he was, happily begging at her feet becoming "Fluffy" again.
Her gaze drifted back to JD. He seemed no different—an unexpected stray she couldn't turn away. She sighed as he ate, his shoulders hunched, his eyes glistening. Was he tearing up?
Why do you have such a soft heart, Joanne? she thought, chiding herself.
-----
JD leaned back in his chair, savoring the last sip of beer as the evening breeze swept over the porch. His stomach was full—more full than it had been in months—and so, oddly, was his heart. He hadn't just been fed; he'd been seen, treated like a human being, not a paycheck or a customer.
For the first time in two years, no one had looked at him with suspicion or greed before offering food and shelter. He chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"I've never had pie like that," he had told Joanne earlier, meaning every word. She must have magic in her hands to cook like that—better than any high-end chef he'd grown up indulging in. Her dishes weren't plated with finesse, but there was something intangible in them, a warmth no amount of money could replicate.
Now, as he sat on the porch, he replayed the scene. He hadn't even realized he'd eaten everything on the table until the last bite was gone. He winced, wondering if he'd left enough for her. Yet she had seemed pleased, standing up with a smile as she'd tossed him a can of beer.
That simple gesture, the ease in her demeanor, struck him. She wasn't like anyone he'd met before. Not the polished society women who adorned his past life, with their manicured smiles and shallow laughter. Joanne radiated life—principles, warmth, and an authenticity he hadn't believed existed anymore.
She can't be the same J. Smith, he thought, taking another sip of the beer. She didn't seem like the type to hide behind fake hair and marry someone for money.
No, she was... something else entirely. A goddess, he mused. An angel walking the earth.
His thoughts drifted to his next step. He wasn't eager to get into the grind of an office job, but the idea of leaving this place, of losing this heaven for the summer? Unthinkable.
Whatever it took, he'd make it work. For now, though, he let himself bask in the rare The peace JD had been savoring shattered in an instant.
"Hey, Jo!!!"
The slurred, grating voice came from the driveway, cutting through the stillness of the night. JD sat up straighter, his muscles tensing as his eyes found the source of the commotion. A man, bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand, staggered down Joanne's long driveway, his unsteady steps leaving crushed gravel in his wake.
"Where is that dollar wh*re? Jo! Come on out!"
The crude shout hit like a slap, making JD's jaw tighten.