The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 17

Down the hospital corridor, the red light above the emergency room doors blared like a warning siren.

Outside, Garrison stood leaning against the wall, his hands jammed into his pockets, his head bowed. He looked like a bowstring pulled right to its breaking point. Quinn sat pale and quiet on the bench nearby. Rosemary paced furiously back and forth, clutching a crumpled tissue in her bandaged hand.

Sloane walked down the hall, carrying a thermos filled with warm, freshly made soup.

She had gone back and forth on it, but ultimately decided she needed to see Archie for herself. He was her flesh and blood, after all. She couldn't just walk away without knowing he was okay.

The second Sloane stepped around the corner, Rosemary froze in her tracks.

"You actually have the nerve to show your face?!"

Her vicious shriek shattered the silence. Like an enraged lioness, Rosemary lunged forward and slapped Sloane squarely across the face.

Smack!

The sharp, explosive sound echoed down the empty corridor. A blistering wave of pain exploded across Sloane's cheek, making her ears ring violently. She stumbled back, the thermos slipping from her grasp. It hit the immaculate tiles with a harsh clatter, bursting open. The warm soup splattered everywhere, pooling across the floor.

"Look at what you've done! If anything happens to my grandson, I will destroy you, Sloane!"

Rosemary's chest heaved, her finger practically jabbing into Sloane's nose.

Half of Sloane's face instantly swelled, the stark white skin blooming with five bright red finger marks. She didn't bother to touch her cheek. She merely glanced down at the spilled soup and let out a dry, internal laugh. Whatever. He probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway.

Hearing the commotion, Garrison hurried over and grabbed his mother's arm. "Mom, what are you doing? We're in a hospital."

Whatever. No one would believe the truth anyway.

No one would ever believe that a biological father would secretly spike his own daughter's drink, trying to throw her to the wolves just so he could leverage her for money and status.

It was pure, twisted fate that Sloane had blindly handed that very bottle of water to an already intoxicated Garrison.

"Sloane, is your... your mouth okay? Do you need some ice?"

Seeing Sloane's face pale to the point of translucence, with a thin line of blood trickling from her split lip, a pang of guilt finally hit Garrison. He had seen the footage. Archie had run off on his own. And it was Sloane who found him, throwing herself into the freezing ocean to drag him out.

He reached out to check her injury, but just as his hand lifted, a weak gasp echoed behind him.