The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 211

"Cold," Sloane gasped, her breath catching.

"That's normal. It's a property of the nano-carriers." Garrison kept his eyes glued to the markings on the syringe, but his thumb brushed lightly against her shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort.

Sloane didn't say another word.

She stared at his profile. He was close, so close she could trace the faint scar across the bridge of his nose, though she had no idea when he had gotten it. His brows were slightly knit, his lips pressed into a tight line. He looked like a finely tuned machine, every gear executing its designated function flawlessly.

But his eyes... seemed to be suffocating under the weight of something much deeper.

The plunger finally hit the bottom.

Garrison pressed down on the injection site, slowly withdrew the needle, and covered it with a sterile patch. His fingers lingered over that small piece of gauze, pressing down for a long, heavy moment.

Sloane didn't rush him. The low hum of the heater filled the entire cabin. A memory suddenly washed over her—years ago, she had lain just like this, right in front of him. She had been pregnant with Archie then, and he had accompanied her to a prenatal checkup. As the ultrasound wand glided over her swollen belly, a blurry, tiny outline had appeared on the screen. He had stared at it for a long time...

That was the first time he had ever reached out and held her hand on his own accord.

Later, that hand had let go, remaining absent for years. Yet right here, right now, he was holding her again. His hand gripped her shoulder, knuckles tight, as if terrified she might vanish.

"All done."

Garrison's voice was hoarse. He let go, turning around to pack up the medical supplies. He shoved the used swabs and syringe into a biohazard bag with hasty, frantic movements, looking as if he were trying to flee.

Sloane watched his back. "Garrison."

His hands stalled. "Yeah."

"Your hands are shaking."

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