"You're right," Pierce conceded once he swallowed the next bite of grilled cheese. "I will die someday, because no one lives forever. But I'm not dead yet, sweetheart, and neither are you. So as long as I'm still kicking, you'll be stuck with me."
He listened to the crunch of the ice cubes, remembering that was sort of bad for one's teeth, and also could signal anemia. Next time they got together he was putting together something with spinach. But he didn't say anything. If it was some type of a comfort, then he wouldn't press her about it. "No one is entirely good or entirely bad," was what he stated instead. "And you do not belong alone."
Mo's father worried about her too, and agreed that she didn't deserve the fate she had already resigned herself to. Pierce almost told her that, he wanted to, but no. Now was not the time.