The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 527

Sloane pressed her lips tightly together. She knew Cassandra was telling the truth; Garrison had certainly been very popular during his hospital stay. But... for some inexplicable reason, she absolutely did not want to continue this conversation.

"By the way, Garrison... your injuries were so severe this time. Are you sure you don't need to notify your family?"

Sloane attempted to change the subject.

Garrison stared out the window. The ocean flickered in and out of view alongside the highway, the water sparkling under the sun. His voice was steady, carrying not a single ripple of emotion:

"No need. I don't really have anyone important waiting for me at home anyway."

Sloane paused, a bit stunned.

"I remember... you have a son, don't you?"

The moment the words left her mouth, she instantly regretted it.

The car fell dead silent.

Cassandra's finger froze hovering over the radio button, and Wyatt's hand stopped tapping against the steering wheel. In the rearview mirror, their eyes met for a fraction of a second before quickly darting away.

Garrison didn't say a word.

He continued looking out the window, his long eyelashes casting quiet shadows across his cheekbones. His expression remained entirely unreadable, but Sloane was sitting close enough to notice his right hand, resting on his knee, curl inward ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry," she lowered her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I shouldn't have asked."

"It's fine." Garrison turned to look at her, his tone as even and gentle as before. "He goes to an international school now, and his studies keep him very busy. There's no need to worry him over this."

"Does he live with his mother?" Sloane didn't even realize how intensely she was fixated on the answer.

Garrison fully turned his head now, fixing those deep, amber eyes on her. It was impossible to read what was going through his mind... After a long, suspended moment, he finally spoke, enunciating every single word:

"No. He's lived with me since he was a baby. But I think... if his mother knew the boy he is today, she would be so proud of him."

The vehicle quickly stabilized.

Sloane remained plastered against Garrison's chest. She was instantly enveloped by the clean scent of the hospital laundry's mild detergent, completely intertwined with the natural warmth of his skin and the faint, minty trace of his medicinal ointment.

Her cheek was mere inches from his collarbone, giving her a clear view of the edge of the bandages peeking out from beneath his shirt collar. Her hand was still planted firmly on his thigh, and his broad palm was still gripping her waist. Both of them froze entirely in place.

"I'm so sorry!" Sloane scrambled frantically out of his lap. "I didn't hit your ribs, did I?"

"No..." Garrison shifted backward against the seat, the tips of his ears flushing a dangerous shade of crimson.

"*Ahem.*"

Cassandra cleared her throat. She stared at the deeply blushing, flustered pair in the rearview mirror, completely unable to suppress her grin.

Wyatt wasn't just a walking disaster after all—when it counted, he was actually incredibly useful!