The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 576

Sloane ran over and threw her arms around Garrison, holding him tightly against her.

Her hands slipped under his overcoat, wrapping fiercely around his waist through the thin fabric of his hospital gown.

His body felt even thinner than she remembered. His ribs dug into her wrists, making them ache, but the ache in her heart was far worse.

Yet, through that thin layer of clothing, she could hear his heart—*thump-thump, thump-thump*—beating steadily and powerfully.

He was here. He was alive, and he was here!

Sloane squeezed her eyes shut, greedily breathing in his scent—a mix of antiseptic, medical ointment, and his own natural, crisp scent of pine, slightly warmed by his body heat.

The heart that had been suspended in terror for so, so long finally settled back into her chest.

She held him so tightly, terrified that if she let go even for a second, he would slip through her fingers like the snow from that freezing night.

Garrison lowered his head, resting her hair against his chest.

Then, using his right arm—the one without the IV line—he wrapped it around her back. His fingers gently tightened against her shoulder blades, pulling her fiercely into his embrace.

Resting his chin against her forehead and pressing his lips to her hair, he softly comforted her, over and over:

"Don't be afraid. I'm back."

"I'm right here..."

Sloane's heart felt as though it was about to burst from the overwhelming, suffocating swell of sorrow and aching tenderness. She slowly let go of him and took a half-step back.

Then, her eyes traced his face, inch by inch.

His pale forehead, his sunken eye sockets, his dry, cracked lips, and the faded bruise lingering at the corner of his mouth. With every feature her gaze passed over, more tears welled up in her eyes.

"How did you lose so much weight?"