*The dull ache in my head is nothing compared to the sinking feeling in my chest. As I blink through the haze of last night, my gaze lands on the woman sitting on the edge of the couch, wrapped in my suit jacket.
Jenayax.
She’s facing away from me, her shoulders trembling, her fingers clutching the fabric like it’s the only thing holding her together.
That’s when it hits me—I didn’t use protection.* Shit. I push myself upright, my voice rough from sleep and guilt. “Jenayax…”
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