The song in the quote today is absolutely a breakup song, so I've been hesitant to use it up to this point (despite how much I love it), but I think it works here. All things considered.

what's so funny is i'm scared and lonely
and i don't think that i'm the only one as i watch you drive away
and what's so funny is the birds are singing
the sun is shining and the bells are ringing
and i'm thinking, "what happened here?"
Bob Schneider, "Changing My Mind"

When Juice got home that night the TV was on, but Olivia was nowhere to be seen. He called her name but there was no answer. He turned the TV off, went back to the porch for his gun, and worked his way through the house.

He found her in the bedroom asleep with all the lights on. He set the safety on his weapon and put it on the dresser. It looked like she'd fallen asleep in the middle of changing clothes, because her soot-smudged jeans and t-shirt were strewn across the floor, but she still wore her bra and underwear.

He crawled in bed behind her and as he pressed close she stirred. She made a sleepy little noise and rubbed her eyes.

"Bright," she said.

"You fell asleep with the lights on. TV, too." He kissed her temple. Her hair smelled like burning things, ash and coal. He mouthed down the side of her face to her neck.

"Mmmm," she murmured. Then she went stiff and twisted toward him. "I did?"

He chuckled. "Yup. Long day, I guess?"

They'd both been helping set up the new clubhouse space in the old Scoops 'n' Sweets building in downtown Charming. He hadn't really seen much of her, though: she'd been in the back room putting a workshop together, including the addition of a blowtorch. He usually steered clear when she started soldering things.

"Uh huh," she said. She'd come home exhausted, so tired her eyes had been crossing during the drive. She remembered turning on the TV (thought now she couldn't've said why), but everything after that was kinda blurry. Well. She had been through a lot in the past several weeks…and she wasn't sleeping well.…

"I fixed the rip in that one sign," she said and waved a hand. "The one from the clubhouse. Tomorrow I'm gonna start on the big Reaper from the chapel. Oh, and—"

Something about her tone made him want to squirm.

"At some point I'll see what I can do about your bike."

"Ah. Huh. Yeah…"

She flipped onto her back and frowned up at him. "Why didn't you tell me what happened? I had to hear it from Chibs."

"I didn't want you to worry. It wasn't a big deal, and we knew the cops were dirty as hell."

"You hoped the cops were dirty. What if they'd been legit? You would've violated the fuck out of your parole and you'd be doing the rest of those seven years."

She winced and pressed a hand to her forehead. "God, I'm sorry. I just heard what I sound like."

"Hey, no, don't be sorry. You're right. I just…sometimes I feel like everyone in the club is looking at me. Like they all know and just aren't sayin' anything. Even if they don't know, it's still like I'm the fucking loser who can't get his shit together."

He hitched a shoulder. His chin fell to his chest. "Jax told me I don't have anything to prove, but I can't stop thinkin' that I do. That no matter what I do or what choices I make, it's all gonna be wrong."

She rested her fingers against his cheek. Eventually he raised his head to look at her. "If you get yourself killed with one these stupid, reckless stunts, I will personally drag you back from the dead and kick your ass. Yeah?"

His mouth twisted. "Yeah, Liv. I hear you."

"Good." She paused. Ran a hand over his scalp, palm against his skin, thumb brushing his mohawk. "You don't have anything to prove, babe. You've done everything Jax has asked and more. You took that beating from Chibs. The only person who doubts you now is you."

He nodded and struggled to find a smile. His eyes were bright. "The problem is everything Jax has had me do just makes it worse. It might square me with him and the club, but it…fucks up my head. I don't know how to get right with any of it."

"I don't either, baby," she admitted with a rueful quirk to her lips. "I don't know if it helps any, but I know all of it—assuming you haven't left anything out—and it hasn't changed how I feel about you. You're a good person who's done bad things. I'm a bad person who's done…I don't know. Very questionable things. I think we sorta even each other out."

He stared at her, aghast. "You're not a bad person, Olivia, how can—"

"I think I was. Until I met you." She rolled her eyes. "That sounds so sappy. I just mean—from the time I killed TJ and hit the road, the only person I really ever gave a fuck about was me. I'd sell you my best friend if you paid the right price, but honestly even that's pretty hollow since I didn't have any friends."

She raised an arm above her head to work out the kinks, and he watched in fascination as her body moved and stretched. She poked him. "Hey. Gutter brain. I'm trying to talk here."

"I'm listening," he muttered, but his eyes were trained on her boobs. Her bra was simple white cotton, the kind she usually wore to work, but this one must be lower cut or something, because her breasts spilled over the cups in a way he hadn't seen before.

"Right," she said with a wry grin. "Anyway, all I'm saying is since I met you I care about something else. Not just you, but also the people here. This house. The town, I guess. I mean, I want to leave, but…"

"Part of you wants to stay."

"Yeah. Is that fucked up?"

"No. Charming's one of the only real homes I've ever had. Part of me wants to stay, too." He tugged at her bra strap. "Take this off," he said, urgently.

She swatted his hand away. "Juicy! Focus!"

"I am focused. I promise."

He dipped his head and traced his tongue along the cup's edge, over the white swell of her breast. She made a soft noise and skimmed her fingers around the curve of his skull. He cut his eyes up at her and grinned. She stuck her tongue out at him.

His smile deepened to crinkle the corner of his eyes. He crossed his arms over her stomach and rested his chin on them. His expression was guileless.

"You're real fuckin' lucky you're cute, Ortiz."

He laughed and moved up her body. "Gonna make that my personal motto," he said and kissed her. "Damn lucky I'm cute."

She laughed. "Incorrigible, that's what you are."

"Mmhhmm. Whatever you say, baby," he murmured as their mouths met again. Her lips were warm and sweet and full against his. He nipped the upper one with his lips. Sucked the lower one into his mouth. Her tongue brushed against his and she pressed a hand to his chest. He looked down in confusion.

"You're gonna have to move if you want me to get my bra off," she said.

He smirked and sat back. "Now who's the incorrigible one?"

"You lead me into temptation, Ortiz. I was a perfectly nice girl before I met you. Now it's all kitchen-counter sex, blowjobs in the backyard, and torrid rendezvous in the bathroom."

"There was only one rendezvous in the bathroom and it didn't exactly end well."

"I guess we should've picked up where we left off before the Irish blew the place up."

"Too late now," he said, regretfully.

"It's okay," she said. She tossed the bra aside and her voice turned sultry. "I'm sure I can find someplace to fuck you in the ice cream shop."

His pupils went huge and his hands froze on their journey up her body. "That—um. Uh." He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Never thought I'd hear someone say that to me."

Her brow quirked and she lifted his hand to her mouth. She sucked one of his fingers between her lips and swirled her tongue around it. "It looks like the idea has a certain appeal."

He let out a shaky breath. "Well, I mean. Ice cream. Sweet…things…your, um. Your mouth." His head tilted. "My mouth."

She sighed and pushed him onto his back. Straddled his hips and ran her hands up under the hem of his t-shirt to stroke his warm skin. "You have a dirty mind, my love."

"I haven't really heard you complain before," he said with a cocky grin.

"Not complaining now." She brushed her fingers lightly over the new tattoo and he shivered. It was mostly healed, but the skin was still incredibly sensitive. She bent down to kiss him long and hot, and as she straightened he cupped her breasts.

And paused. "Babe," he said with a frown, "are your boobs bigger?"

She looked down. "Hum." Always before she'd just-but-not-quite filled one of his hands; now each one clearly overflowed his fingers a little bit. "That's weird."

"Could it be those new vitamins?"

She made a face. "Sorry to disappoint, love, but Lyla gave me those for my hair and nails, not my tits. It's a B-vitamin supplement with some Omega3 whats-its thrown in."

"Hhmm," he said. He squeezed a little and she yelped.

"Hey, geez, those are attached. Careful."

He gave her an odd look. She loved it when he squeezed her breasts like that. "Liv. Are you okay?"

"Um." She waved a hand. "Yeah, you know. Probably just about to start my period. My boobs always get more sensitive a few days before. You know that."

He did know, but usually they were sensitive in a pay more attention to them way, not a don't touch them because it fucking hurts way.

She laughed a little and kissed his nose. "You look so worried, babe. Here." She took his hands and guided them lower. "There are plenty of other parts of me for you to play with."

Their lips met as he caressed her ass and up the line of her back. She unbuckled his belt and lowered the zipper. Rucked his shirt up his chest and mouthed a line from the waist of his boxers to his sternum.

"Plenty of parts of you for me to play with, too," she murmured against his skin. He squirmed beneath her as she ran her tongue along his collarbone and dipped into the hollow of his throat. She left soft, sucking kisses—with just a hint of teeth—up his neck.

"Eek!" she cried. Suddenly she was on her back looking up at him.

He grinned. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone actually say eek before."

"Well, you know. I make all sorts of noises when I'm with you."

"That's true," he said, his voice dropping. He kept a watchful eye on her face and gently swirled a soft tongue across each of her nipples.

"Mmmm," she said. "Do that again."

"You liked that?" He blew a stream of air across each one and watched them grow hard.

"Uh huh." Her back arched a little and she let out a quiet gasp as he repeated it.

He pulled back and ran a hand over her stomach. "Listen, Liv, about last night—"

"You mean when you came home on an adrenaline high that translated into furious, wanton sex? What about it?"

His forehead creased. "Ha, yeah. Um. I just wanted to say I hope I didn't…hurt you. We usually aren't quite so, er…" He trailed off and cast about for the right word.

"Brutal?"

He flinched. "That's kinda—"

"Accurate?"

A huff of impatience. "Liv, come on."

She chuckled. "It's okay, Juicy. If you remember I was right there with you. And, yeah, I guess there was some lingering acheyness, but it was the good kind. The I've just been well and thoroughly fucked all night kind."

He dipped his head and she could swear he was blushing, but when he looked up again he was grinning from ear to ear. "So, um. Wanna do it again?"

Her mouth quirked. The dimple in her chin flashed. "I thought you'd never ask, sugar."

This time it was her turn to slip out of bed while Juice slept. The sun was barely up, but she had some things she needed to get done and wanted an early start. She hurried through her shower. When she got dressed her favorite jeans were too tight, so she swapped them out for a pair with a baggier fit ("boyfriend style," which she sincerely hated and had bought on a whim that she'd almost instantly regretted). In the kitchen she assembled some cheese toast, and as soon as the toaster oven beeped she grabbed her food and rushed out the door.

Her first stop was TM. This time of day the place was deserted, and that was exactly how she wanted it. She pressed her fists to her hips and surveyed the damage inside the garage. Eventually they would get things put to rights, if for no other reason than because the club desperately needed the income. In the meantime she had a custom job to finish and she needed more tools at the ice cream shop.

Her thoughts scattered and she pressed a hand to her forehead. Took a long, shaky breath. There was no fucking way. Sure, her boobs were bigger and more sensitive. Yes, her clothes were a bit snug. And, okay, yesterday she'd nearly burst into tears at her first sight of the garage and, later, the smell of roast beef had sent her running for the bathroom. But there was no fucking way.

She did a quick mental calculation and cringed.

If that weird bit of spotting she'd had right after she got out of the hospital hadn't been an actual period, then it had been nearly six weeks since her last one.

"Ollie girl! To what do we owe this early-morning pleasure?"

Chibs' voice startled her so badly that she reeled. He held out a hand to catch her and she jerked away with a tremulous smile. "Shouldn't sneak up on people like that," she said, a little breathlessly.

He peered at her. She'd stopped reacting like a startled rabbit when someone came up behind her…over a year ago. He never would've done it otherwise. He took note of her pale face and dark-rimmed eyes. She was dressed oddly, too: lose-fitting jeans nothing like her usual style, and a t-shirt he strongly suspected belonged to Juice.

"You all right, lass?"

"You just scared me, that's all," she said. "I didn't think anyone was around."

Her light tone didn't fool him. "You sure that's it? Not comin' down with somethin'?"

Her mouth twisted. "People keep asking me that. Do I look that bad?"

He snorted. "I'm not fool enough to answer that question. You're pretty as a picture, Ollie girl, and don't let anyone tell you any different."

"Flatterer," she said. Then, "I'm just tired. Not sleeping well, I guess."

"Hhmm. Well if Juicy boy isn't up to the task of wearin' you out, you know where to find a man who can," he said and waggled his brows.

It had the intended effect: she burst out laughing, bright and unfettered peals that echoed through the garage. He waved a hand and feigned irritation.

"You don't have to laugh so hard, lass."

Still grinning, she patted his arm. "I do love you, Chibby."

"Aye, well." He sniffed. "Rather fond of you, too. But let's not get maudlin about it."

"I wouldn't dare." Her smile was warm and easy, and their shared look lingered for a little longer before she turned away. "I'm glad you're here, actually. You can help me haul some of this shit to my car."

"Movin', are you?"

"Sort of. I took a look at the shop yesterday, and I think I can get the milkshake maker thingies working again. Chucky has a mind to turn it back into a real ice cream parlor, and he seemed so excited about it I didn't have the heart to tell him no."

"You keep messin' with that boy's hands he'll be able to make the milkshakes his own mad self."

"That's my goal. Bionic Chucky."

"Perish the notion."

With Chibs' help she got everything sorted and loaded in no time, and he followed her into town to help her get things settled at the shop. The back room workspace was coming together well, and after some messing she was at least mostly satisfied. She got him to wrestle the big Reaper onto the table for her, and then she shooed him out.

The Reaper's scythe had come apart in the blast, but it should be an easy fix. She slid her goggles into place and lit the blowtorch. Soon the smell of hot metal filled the air and she was lost in the calming simplicity of work.

But the reprieve couldn't last forever, and after a few hours she straightened and stretched the crook out of her back. Her stomach rumbled, but a wave of queasiness followed right after. She closed her eyes and stripped off her gloves. A few choice curses later she pulled out her phone and dialed Tara's number.

Several of the guys, including Juice, were in the shop when she emerged from the back. They all greeted her, and she bumped Juice with her shoulder when she joined him at the bar.

"Chibs told me you were here, but I didn't want to bother you while you were playin' with the torch."

She grinned and picked up his beer. Stared for a moment at the bottle and put it down again. She covered the moment with a quick shrug. "Little early for beer, maybe," she said.

He gave her a curious look, but she ignored it and turned to address the room in general. "So what's on the agenda today, boys?"

"Gemma just called," Bobby said "She's on her way over with some friend of Nero's. One of his girls, I guess."

"Hhmm," she said. "I was gonna head to St. Thomas to see Tara, but if you guys need me…?"

"Nah," Tig said. "Didn't sound like any sort of medical thing."

"We'll call you if somethin' comes up," Bobby said, "but Tig's right. Sounded more like she's in trouble and needs that kinda help. Not patchin' up."

"Okay," she said. "Y'all know where I am if you change your mind."

She brushed her fingers against the back of Juice's neck as she went past toward the door. She still wasn't comfortable with public displays of affection and probably never would be. He understood what she meant with that feather-light caress, and he matched her brief smile with one of his own.

"Bye, guys," she said. "Ride safe."

The bell over the door jingled as she pushed out onto the sidewalk, and Juice watched her until she was in her car. There'd been something strange about her. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but he knew he wasn't imagining it.

"Her tits look bigger to anybody else?" Tig said.

Happy smacked him on the back of the head. "You can't talk about her tits anymore, man. She's Juice's old lady now."

"Right." Tig grimaced. "Sorry, brother."

Juice grinned a little. "Forget it. Just don't let her hear you say anything."

"Fuck no," he said. "I like my balls right where they are, thanks."

Laughter followed, and Juice joined in half-heartedly. He didn't know a whole lot about biology, but he knew there were only a couple things that could make a woman's tits grow—and Olivia sure as fuck hadn't gotten implants.

"Well?" Olivia said. She rung her hands and paced away. "No. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Ollie, come on. Sit down," Tara said.

"I definitely can't do that. Fuck, I think I might throw up."

"Well, that's common in this stage."

"This stage?" she cried. "So it was positive?!"

There was a pause. "Congratulations…?" Tara said, uncertainly.

Olivia collapsed into one of the chairs and leaned forward to rest her forehead in her hands. "Oh my God. This can't be happening."

Tara sat down next to her and rubbed a hand up and down her back. "Birth control isn't one hundred percent effective, Ollie. You know that."

She sat up fast and grasped Tara's fingers. "You don't understand. This can't. Be. Happening. It's not a matter of a broken condom. I had my tubes tied almost ten years ago!"

Tara's face fell. Her expression turned grave. "Oh."

"Oh is right."

She shifted in her seat. "Do you use a backup means of birth control?"

"No, Tara. I had a fucking operation to prevent this from happening. I didn't really think backup was necessary."

Tara cleared her throat and leaned a little closer. "We need to get you an appointment with an OB-GYN. It is possible to get pregnant after tubal ligation, but it's rare. And ectopic pregnancy is a lot more common."

She frowned a little. She knew what ectopic pregnancy was—the surgeon who'd performed her ligation had explained the risks. After surgery her ovaries would still release eggs like always, and she'd still have her cycle every month, but the egg would stay up in the tube. Sometimes one of those determined little fuckers was able to swim through the barrier created by the surgery, and the egg couldn't pass down into the uterus like it was supposed to. Thus, fertilized egg in exactly the wrong place.

Part of her was relieved. If it were an ectopic pregnancy they could give her drugs that would resolve it before it became dangerous. She knew that much, but what she didn't know—

"How do they diagnose that versus just, I mean. Being knocked up?"

"You said you had spotting a few weeks ago. Was it just that one time, or has it been more often?"

She hitched a shoulder. "It lasted a day or two and went away." She hesitated. "I've been pregnant before, Tara. Three times. I don't remember it happening then."

Tara's brow creased. "Did you miscarry, or—?"

Olivia met her eyes with a long, frank look. "My loving husband wasn't ready for kids yet," she said, simply.

"Ah," Tara said. She swallowed and looked away. "Jesus."

"Yeah," she said with a quick, bitter smile.

"Is that why you…?" She made a gesture toward her middle and Olivia knew what she meant.

"I don't know. Maybe. But, I mean, I was the only one really hurt by it. And it wasn't like I was that upset: the last thing I wanted in that situation was a baby. Can you even imagine?" She shuddered and passed a hand over her eyes. "I just hated having my choice taken away again, like it was about every fucking thing."

Tara studied her. It was easy to see the pattern that had turned her into the woman she was now. They were both hard, and they were both angry, and they both understood that sometimes life called for desperate measures. Ten years ago Olivia had been twenty-one. That was young as hell to decide you never wanted to be pregnant.

Tara waved a hand. "It's going to be fine, Ollie. I can make you an appointment for later this afternoon. She'll do a pelvic and will probably want to do an ultrasound. Even this early you can usually tell if an embryo is where it's supposed to be."

"Okay," she said on a long breath. "Yeah, okay. I need to know before it gets worse."

Worse, Tara thought. Interesting way to phrase it. If it were a tubal pregnancy then that was pretty fitting, but otherwise…

"What do you think you'll do?" Tara said.

"I don't know. I honestly don't. The only time we've even talked about kids was when I told him about the surgery. He said he didn't want to expose kids to this life, and I completely agree with that. We've only been together six months!"

"Please," Tara said with a snort. "That's a technicality and everyone knows it." She touched the back of Olivia's hand, and she lifted her chin. "You need to talk to him before you decide anything, Ollie. I know it's your body and ultimately your decision, but I think you'll regret it if you don't at least tell him what you're planning."

Her mouth twisted. "Am I awful for hoping it's ectopic?"

"No. It would save you from having to make an incredibly hard decision."

She bit her lip. "Juice would be really upset if he found out after an abortion."

"Like I said."

"Yeah, no, you're right," she said with a brief shake of her head. "But, listen. Let's go see the OB-GYN and find out if…things are where they're supposed to be. There's no point getting him worried or—or—excited—without reason. I'll talk to him after."

"Sure, Ollie," Tara said. "Let me make the call."

I wasn't really expecting this to happen? But. Here goes anyway. Not sure how it'll ultimately fall out.

I would love to hear from you, dear readers. :)