The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 84

The smell of liquor was overpowering. How much had he drank?

Didn't Garrison usually avoid alcohol?

And how did he even find her place? Had he... followed her from the mall this afternoon?

Damn it, she hadn't noticed a thing.

Despite her racing thoughts, Sloane stepped aside, allowing Garrison to stumble in. She had never seen this relentlessly rational and aloof man in such a drunken state.

Leaving a drunk like him out in the hallway was just asking for trouble.

"Garrison... are you drunk?" Sloane asked, her fingers subconsciously tightening around her towel.

"When are you leaving?"

He ignored the question. His gaze was locked on the open suitcase on the floor, his voice incredibly raspy.

Sloane watched him in silence.

"I asked, when are you leaving?" he repeated.

"Tomorrow."

His jaw tightened. His hands, resting at his sides, clenched into fists, relaxed, and then clenched again. He violently forced down the fire blazing in his chest.

"And when are you coming back?"

He asked again, a barely perceptible tremor in his tone.

Come back?

The question caught Sloane off guard.

She had never considered it. In her mind, this expedition was a one-way street. If she got lucky, she would survive, find The White Microbe, and finally accomplish the one thing she wanted in life. If she didn't... she'd just become a permanent fixture on that icy tundra.

Her gaze was as placid as still water, her dark eyes reflecting a faint glimmer in the shadows.

Garrison stared at her, feeling as though a blade had been brutally twisted into his chest.

Instantly, his eyes went red. The final thread holding his sanity together snapped. He lunged forward, gripping her wrists tight, and roughly pinned her against the wall.

A dull thud echoed through the room.

Sloane's back hit the cold surface, and her towel slipped to the floor.

"You don't love me?" Garrison's voice quivered. His liquor-laced breath washed over her neck, scorching and intense. "You think you can just decide to stop loving me, Sloane?"

He pinned her shoulder with one hand while his other hand gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were wild, practically glowing red with a volatile mix of fury, agony, and the sheer desperation of a man backed into a corner.

"Who was it that drugged my drink just to crawl into my bed? Sloane, how could you be so shameless?"

"Do you think I'm some kind of toy? You play with me when it's convenient, and toss me aside when you're bored?"