"Lucy was healthier than I and died." She attempted to say, though it likely came out more like a gibberish mess. It'd been three days since she last managed to hold down more than broth, as the closer the end drew the sicker she became again. Lucy wasn't weak or ill, and she still bled to death in front of Melody, Ace and her newborn son. Death from birth was just as common as false alarms, not that the midwife told Reuben that.

Her hands fisted in his shirt as a small whimpering sob escaped her. The scent of his cologne once would have comforted her, now it was just another reminder of what they had lost.

They had lost so much.