The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 403

Garrison's fingers moved lower, finding the second button.

As he unfastened it just above her chest, his knuckles accidentally brushed against her skin.

His fingertips were freezing, feeling like a thin shard of ice dragging lightly across her warmth, leaving a fleeting, electric chill in its wake. Sloane unconsciously held her breath, but she didn't flinch.

With two buttons undone, her collar parted wider, exposing the faint blue veins tracing delicate paths just beneath the surface of her skin.

Garrison moved even slower on the third button, treating it with the agonizing precision of a curator unboxing a priceless museum artifact.

Sloane cast her eyes downward, watching his hands.

His fingers were long and elegant—the steady hands of a world-class surgeon. His knuckles were clean, his nails trimmed immaculately short. She noticed a tiny callus on the side of his right middle finger, likely formed from years of gripping a scalpel.

Growing impatient, she sighed. "Dr. Foster, please hurry up."

"Mm," Garrison hummed in acknowledgment. "Don't rush me."

The fourth button lay directly over her heart. It was the final one he needed to open.

Garrison leaned forward slightly, his chest practically brushing against her knees.

From this distance, she could clearly see the sweeping curve of his eyelashes. They were incredibly thick and dark, contrasting starkly with his pale amber eyes, giving his gaze a detached, almost predatory intensity.

His fingers found the fourth button and gave it a gentle twist. The moment it slipped free, the fabric parted completely, exposing the fragile stretch of skin right over her heart. It was so thin, so pale, she could almost see the faint outline of her ribs and the weak, rhythmic thumping of the organ beneath them.

Garrison turned, plucking the patch from the metal case and balancing it on his fingertip.

He smoothed out her collar and finally stood up, taking a deliberate step back to re-establish the professional boundary between doctor and patient.

"If it sets off the alarms at airport security, just tell the agents it's a Class II implanted medical device. You're legally cleared to fly and take public transit with it. I'll email you the medical certificate later—make sure you screenshot it and keep it on your phone, just in case you get stopped."

He snapped the empty metal case shut and shoved it into his pocket, his eyes locking onto hers.

This time, his expression held far more than just professional obligation. There was a raw, desperate sincerity buried beneath the lingering exhaustion in his eyes.

"Sloane. Promise me. No matter what happens, you will never take this off."

Sloane sat on the old couch, staring back at him, and let out a defeated sigh in her heart.

"...Fine."