Page 10 of The Marriage Mistake

I’d reached Darby’s side, so I took her wrist in my hand and turned her arm to look at the scratch. “We need to wash this to prevent the risk of infection.”

“I’m infected?” Her blue eyes were wide as saucers and quickly filling with tears.

“I said prevent the risk of infection,” I told her. “It’s basic first aid.”

“Dad!”

“Ember, just, stop saying things that make it sound like Darby’s in mortal peril.”

“Did you hear what I said about the mortality rate of rabies?” I shot back. “A hundred percent, Jack. That’s a one with two zeroes behind it, and it means every single person.”

He shot me a withering look over his shoulder.

“Who even are you?” she asked me, bottom lip trembling.

“Um,” I said. Now didn’t seem like the optimal time to tell her I’d married her father.

“This is Ember,” Jack said. “Just—let me deal with this raccoon first, and then we can talk.”

The raccoon snarled as Jack approached, back rounding as it clutched the top of the refrigerator. I edged away from it, even though I was across the room. I’d need to look up how far raccoons could jump in the case of a future encounter.

Thank God I wouldn’t be in this town for long. Between the fresh air, the silence, and the freaking animals, this place creeped me out.

“Come on, buddy, out the door,” Jack cajoled, taking another step toward the animal.

That was a mistake.

The raccoon snarled, then launched itself off the fridge toward Jack. He screamed—we all screamed—and ducked out of the way, and the creature landed on the tiles before skittering up the cabinets and standing trembling on the counter. It was only a few feet away from me and Darby.

“I’ll help you wash out the scratch,” I told Darby, edging away from the animal. “Let’s get away from the raccoon.”

“Because you don’t want to die of rabies?”

“Exactly,” I said, relieved that at least one of them understood.

“There’s a bathroom just here,” Darby said, ducking into the hall. We stopped at a powder room tucked under the stairs, and I found some soap and a clean towel that I used to help her wash the wound. It wasn’t bleeding, but it was very red. She gritted her teeth as I ran some water over it, but she didn’t cry. Tough cookie.

“Are you my dad’s girlfriend?” Darby asked.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Does he have lots of girlfriends?” Now why did I ask that? It wasn’t any of my business.

“Sort of,” Darby said. “He pretends like he doesn’t go on dates, but I’m not stupid. Everywhere we go, all these women are like, extra nice to me, and I know it’s because they want to get with my dad.”

“That sounds…” I tried to think of what a thirteen-year-old girl would feel. “Really annoying.”

“So annoying. Like, I don’t want any of them in my life. They’re just being fake because they like my dad. And a lot of them only like my dad because my grandma’s rich.”

“Right.” She was tough and perceptive. I began to wonder if I’d bitten off more than I could chew by joining her family—even temporarily. “Okay, I’m washing this out with soap, and then I’ll pat it dry. We want to keep it clean.”

Down the hall, Jack shouted and swore. There was a crash.

“So if you’re not his girlfriend, who are you?” Darby watched me with her father’s eyes, suspicious. Her brown hair had been gathered into a ponytail, and she wore a black T-shirt over jeans.

“Um,” I repeated. “I’m, um…a friend.” I did my best to hide my wince.