It's Our Time (Carolina Rebels 3)

Turns out, we don’t have to drag her over to us. Carey comes voluntarily and leaves the dickwad sitting alone in a corner. Her arms are folded over her chest, so she’s already guarded and defensive. This isn’t going to be good; I can just tell.

“What?”

Logan balks. “That’s all you have to say after you bring that asshole to Savannah’s party? What the ever-loving hell, Carey?” Thank goodness he keeps his voice low.

Her eyes narrow, so I jump in, thinking I can defuse the situation. “He cheated on you, Carey. With multiple girls. You were heartbroken. Why would you give him another chance?” There ended up being five or six girls that he cheated on her with over the course of their relationship. “Once a cheater, always a cheater. You said that.”

“Yeah, and what does that matter? I also said that if he’d cheat with you, he’d cheat on you.” That’s like a slap to the face. Ian appears just in time to hear that as well. Carey barges forward. “You got back together with Ian, didn’t you? I don’t see you listening to my advice when it comes to your relationships, so don’t hand any out to me, especially if I don’t want it. Neither of you asked what happened to bring us back together.”

“Because it doesn’t matter!” Logan whispers vehemently. “He fucking cheated on you, Carey.”

“I don’t know what the hell is happening over here, but it needs to stop,” Ian says, taking my hand and interlocking his fingers with mine.

“How about we just leave?” Carey asks.

“Carey—” Logan starts, but I interrupt him.

“I think that would be best,” I whisper.

The three of them seem shocked. Carey is the quickest to gather her wits. She motions for Jerry to come over and they leave without even saying goodbye to Savannah.

“She’s just pissed that we’re pissed,” Logan says. “She probably brought him here hoping that things would go more smoothly since it’s her party. You okay?”

“Let’s focus on Savannah, all right?”

So, that’s what we do.

Starting with the food.

The cake that Lizzy makes is not only amazing with the design (The Little Mermaid, of course), but it tastes even better. Marc grins every time I tell her how good it is and I tell her like every three seconds. Lizzy doesn’t seem to know what to do with the feedback.

When I hear someone call Ian Bruiser while we’re eating, I giggle and glance at him. “Can I tell them how you got that nickname?”

“Babe.” It’s a warning and an answer all the same.

“What are you talking about?” Marc asks. “There’s a specific reason?”

I say, “Yep,” as Ian answers, “No.” He glares at me.

“Just tell us,” Zane says. “He loves you; he’ll get over it.”

When Ian shakes his head and takes another bite of cake, I somehow take that as his acceptance of me spilling the beans. I took at his teammates. “Y’all haven’t ever noticed that he always has bruises after a game?” Their dumbfounded looks says no. “I can pinch him,” and I do to show what I mean, earning another glare from Ian, “and there will be a little bruise there tomorrow. They called him Bruiser because he bruises like a peach!”

Everyone laughs, except Ian of course. However, there’s a small, barely-there smile on his face. They reach over to playfully hit him on the arm, and it’s funny to hear Ian tell them to stop because he really will have a bruise there tomorrow from them doing so.

Next is presents. Savannah loves that almost as much as the attention she gets. She’s excited about the toys, of course, but she oohs and aahs over the necklace Ian bought her, demanding that he put it on right then and there. I still can’t believe he bought that or my own new necklace. Maybe Savannah will take care of it. She wears her bracelet like I wear all of my jewelry that he’s given me. It doesn’t come off.

The party winds down, people begin to leave, and soon, it’s only the four of us: Ian, Savannah, Jimmy, and me. I decide to let Ian spend time with his dad while I take Savannah to the bathroom for her traditional bubble bath. We’re not in there ten minutes before Ian pops in.

“What are you doing?”

“Daddy, look!” She lifts bubbles in her hands and makes a bubble beard on her face, grinning.

“That’s awesome, Savannah,” he says to her. To me, he answers, “I need a break and I don’t want to miss out on this.”

“It’s a bath.”

“No, it’s a birthday bubble bath,” he corrects as if there’s a difference. I raise an eyebrow at him. There has to be more going on. “Not now, babe.”