Deven nodded her appreciation and watched Kennedy smooth her hair back into place. It was freshly done, she noticed. And she was dressed especially nice for a weekday. Skinny leg jeans, white leather Gucci boots, and a matching leather jacket with fur on the collar and cuffs that fell to her knees. She shrugged out of her outerwear now, revealing one of those white oversized turtleneck sweaters.

Deven suddenly felt embarrassed because she knew she looked like hell. She shifted on her back to keep the IV needle in her arm from pinching. “Date night?” she guessed with only the slightest hint of envy.

Kennedy’s subsequent smirk let her know the assumption was accurate. “Something like that,” she said. “But I wanted to stop in first and make sure you were okay and bring your overnight bag. You need anything?”

“No, they’re just watching to make sure my bleeding gets regulated.”

“When do you think they’ll release you?”

Deven shrugged. Whenever they decided couldn’t be quick enough.

“Well, you know you can come stay with me,” Kennedy offered. “I can look after you.”

Even in the midst of her angst, Deven had to chuckle at the irony. “Little sister taking care of the big sister,” she mused. “Mom would be so proud.”

The air chilled, as it often did whenever she mentioned their mother. But Kennedy quickly recovered to lighten the mood once more. “Hey, you would do the same for me,” she said with a half shrug. “That’s what we’ve always done, right? Look out for each other.”

“Yeah, I appreciate you. I think I’ll be okay though.” Wishful thinking, but it helped to say it out loud. “I have to get back into some kind of normalcy. Miscarriages happen. That’s life.”

“Yeah, that’s life.” Kennedy’s murmur was heavy, and she gazed off as if reflecting on something long ago. Something not entirely present. Because Deven kept staring, she gave a brief nod, silent admission of what she knew they both were thinking.

Deven’s heart immediately cracked open and not only her pain but the pain she now shared with her sister. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’ve had a miscarriage? When was this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kennedy swiped at a tear that had escaped her eye. Her smile was forced, but courageous. “Because that was something I didn’t want to burden you with.”

“Burden? Kennedy come on, nothing dealing with you is a burden.”

“You’re a fixer, Deven,” she said. “You always try to fix stuff. That’s why you picked the perfect profession. The miscarriage was just something I didn’t want you trying to fix for me. It’s just my own damn karma.”

Deven frowned at her choice of words. “I hardly think that’s karma. Come on now.”