The American Wife. Kristina McMorris

have some peroxide if you scraped yourself up. You remember what I told you about my nephew’s ankle, after he didn’t care for it properly. Ended up almost dying in the hospital.”

      No matter how dire the situation, Maddie knew better than to entrap herself in the house of a person who took pride in enumerating worst-case scenarios.

      “I appreciate the offer. But I’ll be okay.” Maddie stretched her neck toward the street.

      “What are you doing out here, exactly? If you pardon my asking.”

      “Just waiting for … a friend,” she said, at last determining that Lane—thank goodness—was the driver behind the wheel.