Robin’s lips began moving so fast, the words poured out quicker than my brain could translate. “Well, you can thank your husband for the detective who showed up at my house to bring Ryan in for questioning regarding the rape accusation, which Lucas had to witness! The poor kid thinks his brother is going to jail now. And why? Because of an accusation that you made. You put that thought into Owen’s head. Ryan could go to jail over this—and you don’t even know all the facts! And did you know that Owen punched Ryan in the face? I bet you’d side with your husband on that too, saying my kid deserved it.”

There were too many pieces flying at me all at once. The sky cracked open with a sprinkle. “Calm down, Robin. Can you come in so we can sort this out? It’s about to pour out there.”

I pushed the door wider for her, but she shook her head, took a step back, her entire body trembling.

“No, I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to slap you across the face, Mackenzie. But I wouldn’t want to be arrested for assault, you know, because that’s what you do. Send your friends to jail and ruin their lives.”

“I honestly didn’t know Owen did that. I swear. I never went to the police, and I can’t imagine that Aria would have without talking to me first about it. I still don’t think she knows—”

I felt a presence behind me, then turned face-first into Owen’s chest. “That’s because Aria didn’t go to the cops. I did. Because I’m protecting my daughter.” His voice was thick from sleep.

Robin scoffed. “Protecting her? You’re putting her private life on public display so that you can pretend your little girl is still Miss Perfect. Wake up, Owen. Your princess is growing up, making her own choices, whether you approve or not. She’s not the victim here. My son is.”

“Your son deserves to rot in prison, Robin. He’s a rapist, and that’s where rapists belong—either in jail, or dead.”

“He didn’t rape her, you asshole! Have you even bothered to talk to your daughter about what happened? Or her part in it?” Spittle flicked across my face as she screamed past my shoulder where Owen stood, stoic and smug.

Always right. Always calm. Always watching and waiting for the right moment to belittle and crush his opponent. Usually that opponent was me, the emotional nag. Now it was Robin, the nag’s crazy best friend. Former best friend.

When Owen said nothing, I turned to look at him, his eyes staring blankly back at Robin. When his gaze shifted in defeat, Robin seized her advantage.