Jennifer POV
I couldn’t feel my hands.
They were trembling—numb at the fingertips, clammy, and stupid. I stared at them as I stumbled into the alley behind the antique store café, my chest squeezing tighter with every breath I managed to drag into my lungs.
She dropped. She just dropped.
I didn’t even kick her that hard. It wasn’t like I meant to—God, I didn’t mean to—
My stomach flipped, bile pushing into the back of my throat. I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees, and threw up beside a dented trash bin that reeked of yesterday’s coffee grinds and old meat.
The noise of the city filtered in through the pounding in my head. Honking. Distant music. A siren?
No. No. Please, not an ambulance.
I pressed both hands to my temples and squeezed, as if I could crush the sound out of ex
