Thanks for the reviews, guys. :) And hopefully this chapter will give a bit more insight into why they're acting the way they are...

These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately. Long love doth so.
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet 2.6.9-15

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there when the knock came. She raised her head and shook back her hair and ripped off some toilet paper to wipe her face. "Sorry, almost done," she called.

"Ollie?"

She slumped against the back of the toilet. Opie.

"Juice said you were lookin' for me. He seemed kinda—weird. Everything okay?"

She stretched forward and twisted the knob, and as the door swung open and he got a look at her, Opie's eyes widened.

"Olivia, what—?" He hurried into the small room and shut the door behind him. He filled the space near to bursting, but somehow he wedged himself in front of her and knelt. "What happened?" he said, so gently it set off a fresh round of tears.

"I fucked up, Opie. I fucked up so bad. He hates me now and I can't even blame him. He should hate me! After what I did? I'd hate me too!"

"Hang on, wait, hang on." She was crying and nearly incoherent, and he had trouble understanding her between the sniffles and the hiccups. He wet a washcloth with cold water and brought it back to press against her face. "Just breathe," he said. "Try to breathe. Tell me what happened."

She took the washcloth from him and pressed it to her eyes. "Did he ever tell you what happened after his mom's funeral?"

"No," Opie said. "Don't think he told anybody. Just called Chibs up the next day and said he wanted to prospect."

Olivia nodded and let the rag fall to her lap. "We spent the night together. Um. A really, really good night."

"Huh." He fall back onto his ass and brought his knees up so he could prop his arms on them. "Weren't you already engaged by then?"

"Yep," she said, her tone bitter. "Less than a month away from getting married, and I spent the night with my high school ex."

"Olivia." He sighed. "Jesus. So I guess you told him about Ben?"

"The next morning. Needless to say he didn't take it well, which, I mean. Why would he?"

His chin dropped to his chest and he shook his head. "That explains a few things. Like why he's never mentioned you once in the last seven years, even when we all found out about your divorce."

"I never meant to hurt him, Opie. I came to the funeral to say goodbye to Ms. Ortiz and maybe just check in with all the rest of you. I absolutely didn't meant to sleep with him, and I had no idea he was still in love with me."

"Funny," Opie said with a snort, "since you were still in love with him."

Her mouth fell open, but he waved her quiet. "You ever think you fooled me? Even once? You told me you were gettin' married and I didn't say a goddamn word because it's your life and your decision, but for fuck's sake. You never loved Ben. You didn't love him when we were kids, and you didn't love him when you married him."

"So, what? I should've just fallen back into it with my high school sweetheart like the four years before that hadn't happened? Like I was still the same person who wanted the same old life in Charming being a biker's old lady?"

He tugged at his beard and looked away. "No," he said. "Of course not. But it seems like marryin' Ben Collins was kind of—it was kind of like goin' back, too. Rather than movin' forward. And, look, I don't wanna be condescending, but—I'm so fuckin' proud of you, Ollie. The shit you've done with your art? It's fuckin' incredible, like really."

He hauled in a breath and let it out, and she waited while he decided what he wanted to say. "I feel like that, your art and shit, is your real life. That's how you kept goin' forward. Your marriage was a way to keep you, sort of…fuck, I sound like a moron."

"No." She touched his knee. "No, please, go on. I want to hear what you think."

"Just—" He lifted his hands in frustration. "You married Ben Collins, of all the people on the planet, because he was a part of your past that made you feel stable. When TJ fucked everything up for you, Ben pulled you out of it. You thought it was—I don't know. The safe thing to do, like he would keep you safe, but it was bullshit. You aren't really the type of woman who likes shit safe."

She dropped his eyes and twisted the washcloth around her fingers. "So I guess that's why I just let Juice fuck me on the sink, huh?"

"You did what?" he said, his voice rising on each word until he was nearly shouting. "Olivia, what the fuck were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking, Opie. I never am around him. That's why I always get myself into trouble when it comes to Juice Ortiz."

He scowled. "Do you want him back, Oll? Is that why you came back to Charming?"

"I don't know," she said. "I thought—I thought maybe there might be…some tiny chance. Not of us just picking up, but of…rebuilding? Kind of starting over?"

His expression softened. "I guess he wasn't too crazy about that idea."

"I didn't tell him," she said. "Any of it. I haven't told him anything. Not why it ended with Ben or why I slept with him seven years ago or why I had to leave. He doesn't seem all that inclined to listen to me anyway, and what does it matter? I hurt him. I know that. Maybe I deserve—everything."

"Olivia," he said, "what did he do? Why are you in here crying?"

She sniffled and crumpled up the damp scrap of toilet paper. He tore off another one and handed it to her. "Well, first." She let out a shaky laugh. "I enjoy sex, Opie. All different kinds of sex. And I've had a lot of sex in my life, in a lot of different situations, including—yeah, okay, this isn't the first time I've had a rough and dirty fuck in a bathroom."

Opie shifted a little and looked away. "Umm, Oll—"

"I'm just saying, okay? I've had a lot of sex, and yet I've never felt quite so…fucked before. Does that make sense?"

"Maybe, uh—maybe you should explain."

She swiped at her face with the tissue. "He didn't take his clothes off, except just to pull his pants down, but while it was happening I thought—he called me Livvie, which he only ever calls me when we're—and it seemed like he really—but then when it was over he just pulled his pants up and walked out, and before he went he told me—" She broke off and buried her face in her hands to muffle a sob.

"Hey," he said. He brushed his palm over her hair in an awkward attempt to comfort her. "Hey, don't cry. Tell me what he said, Oll. Don't cry anymore."

"He said he was just getting it out of his system," she said without lifting her head. "I told him the same thing the morning after, but I think he actually really meant it. And he said it so mean, Opie, just like this…and the way he looked at me…I've never felt like a whore before, Ope, even with all those rumors and shit TJ spread about me, but that's how he looked at me. That's how he made me feel."

"Oh, Ollie," he said on a sigh. He pulled her off the toilet and onto the floor between his knees so he could wrap his arms around her. She pressed her face against his shoulder and cried until his work smock was soggy. He rested his cheek on the top of her head as her sobs finally started to die down.

"You're not a whore, Olivia. If he made you feel that way then he's the asshole. His dick was just as involved, and if he had sex with you as, like, some sort of punishment—that's fucked up. Like real, real fucked up."

"I don't know, Opie. What would you do if it were you? What if Donna suddenly showed up and you guys had a night of torrid passion, then the next morning she told you she was marrying someone else? How would you react?"

He blinked at her. "I'd be mad, yeah, but…" He frowned. "I know that Donna wouldn't ever do somethin' like that to hurt me. Intentionally, I mean. Sometimes things happen, especially when there's a lot of heat and leftover feelings. That's what went down with you and Juice, right?"

"Yeah," she said. "I never wanted to hurt him, Ope."

"I know that." He cupped her face and wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb. "He knows it too; he's just bein' an asshole because his pride's all bruised and shit."

"So what do I do?"

He kissed her forehead, and she scrunched her face as his beard tickled her skin. "Nothin', babe. You don't do a fuckin' thing. Steer clear of him. Right now he's lashin' out like a pissed off baby, and if you try to do anything—even apologize or explain—he's just gonna hurt you again."

"I was trying to steer clear before," she said with a rueful smile.

"I'll talk to him."

"Ope, no, I don't—"

"I know you don't, but I'm gonna talk to him. He needs to hear a few things, I think."

"If he thinks I sent you—"

"Please, Ollie. He knows better than that." He lifted her to her feet. "Move," he said. "I gotta have room to stand up."

She stepped over his leg and scrunched herself into the corner beside the sink. "I don't think this room was really made for somebody your size."

"I fit in here just fine. It's you takin' up all the space."

"Right, gigantor," she said. "You keep tellin' yourself that." She held out a hand and he stared at it a moment.

"Seriously?"

"What? I'm stronger than I look."

Rolling his eyes, he slid his palm into hers. She braced her feet and helped haul him up. "See? Didn't even hit your head on the towel bar or anything."

He mussed her hair and grinned. "Tiny but useful," he said. "Good to know."

"Suck it, Winston. I'm short, not tiny."

"Okay. Whatever you say." His expression sobered and he took the washcloth from her to dab at her face again. "Hang out over here, okay? In one of the dorms or the office or something. I'll be back after I talk to Juice to take you home."

"I can drive myself, Opie. I'm upset, not an invalid."

"Oll, please? Just humor me?"

She glowered down at her boots, but finally she gave in with a reluctant nod. "Whatever," she said. "As long as you plan on picking me up for work tomorrow, that's fine."

"Thank you, O gracious one. I'll be back in a little bit."

"Opie," she said as he reached for the door. "Don't—I mean, don't hurt him, okay? He's just angry."

"Juice Ortiz is a big boy, Olivia. I think he can handle whatever I got planned."

Opie wasn't at all sure Juice could handle what he had planned, but at that moment he didn't particularly give a fuck. He didn't think he'd ever seen Olivia cry: not when her mom died, not when TJ devoted his life to torturing her, not when she thought she might go to jail for killing him. She just didn't cry.

At least not around him.

What she'd said shook him to the core, because he knew what she'd gone through in high school—and Juice did too, which made it that much worse. He had no right to treat her that way. No right to make her cry. And Opie was going to take it out of his hide.

He found him in the garage, finishing up an oil change, and he jerked his chin at Half Sack. "Give us some room," he growled, and Sack dropped what he was doing and bolted.

Juice turned to face Opie with a wary nod. "Ope. What's up, man?"

He didn't say a word, just hauled back his fist and sent it crashing into Juice's face. He staggered and fell against the car, and Opie grabbed him by the t-shirt to keep him upright. He hit him again, even harder, and then a third time. A cut opened on his cheek and Opie's knuckles split and Juice shoved away from him to spit blood.

He bent double, hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. "Jesus fucking Christ, Ope! What the fuck?"

"Stand up, you miserable little shit. Stand the fuck up, because I'm not done with you!"

He staggered to his feet and took a swing. Opie dodged it and connected hard with Juice's stomach. His breath left in a rush and he thought he might vomit.

"Enough!" he said. "Tell me what the fuck's goin' on."

"As if you don't know. You're the one who sent me to find her!"

Comprehension dawned through his rattled brain and he let out a rusty laugh. "I guess she told you what happened."

"No shit she told me."

"All of it? She tell you what happened seven years ago?"

Opie dragged him up by the collar. "Yeah, asshole, she told me that too." He pushed Juice against the car and jerked away in disgust. "You always said you know her so fuckin' well, that she's like an open book or some shit, and you don't know why she did it? You got the balls to treat her like she's somethin' dirty, or less than you?"

"I never—"

"Bullshit. That girl don't rattle easy, and when I found her she was a goddamn mess. She cried all over me."

Juice smirked, and his teeth were red. "You told me once lettin' her cry in your arms was the fastest way to her shit list."

"She's not seventeen anymore, dumbass. She's an adult, and you're supposed to be, too. I get that she hurt you, but you got no right to treat her like that."

"I got a right to treat her any way I want!" Juice cried, anger driving him upright. "She came back here and she fucked me knowin' full well she had a fiancé waitin' for her back in Portland, and she didn't feel like it was important to mention until the next morning. Fuck that and fuck her!"

"You mad because she had a fiancé and didn't tell you, or because you just assumed she would come runnin' back to you and then you felt like the fucknut you are when you found out the truth?"

He looked away with a scowl. "Fuck you too, man. You don't got a fuckin' clue."

"About what, Ortiz? What am I so clueless about? Ollie? Because in case you forgot, I've known her a lot longer than you have, and guess what? I loved her first."

Juice snorted, then winced at the pain in his nose. "You liked her, Ope. You know how I know you didn't love her?" At Opie's look his mouth curved in a pained grimace. "Because you got the fuck over it. Look at the facts, brother: Ben Collins was her teacher. Nine years older. He fell in love with her, and when she showed up in his life years later he went and married her. I fell in love with her and now I'm a fucked up mess over it. You? You're fine. Walkin' and talkin' and livin' your life."

He shook his head and stretched his shirt up to dab at the cut on his cheek. "You never loved her, bro. Trust me. I know the damage she does, and you ain't got none of it on you."

"You need to get over yourself. Seriously. All I'm hearin' is how she hurt you. How you loved her so goddamn much. Whine, whine, whine. Bitch and moan.

"What about her? You ever stop and think what musta been goin' through her head so that she married someone she didn't love, and stayed married to him for five years? You ever consider that it mighta been just as hard on her to walk out as it was for you to watch her go?"

"Bullshit!" Juice said. "She didn't have to go. She coulda stayed. She could've left him!"

"For some guy she hadn't seen in four years? Come on, man. That sound like her? Leave the sure thing she had with Ben, however much she might be freakin' out about it, to remake her life for her high school ex?"

"I loved her! I loved her and she loved me and that's all that should've mattered!"

"You are so fucking stupid, Ortiz. You think she trusts love for any goddamn thing? You think she's gonna risk everything for love? Her? If you think that then you don't know her at all."

"Goddammit." He raised shaking hands to his face and scraped them back over his skull. Tears formed in his eyes and he gripped his head like he was afraid it might split open. "I just wanted to hurt her. I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me. I wanted her to know what it felt like."

Opie crossed his arms over his chest. "Congratulations, dickhead. You got your wish."

He sagged back against the car and tears mixed with the blood on his face. "She's got me so fucked up. It's been seven goddamn years, and when I saw her it was like—it was like time just fucking stopped. I felt exactly like I did that morning when she walked out, and I was so goddamn pissed."

"It's not her fault you can't move on. Stop tryin' to take your shit out on her. You really love her? Then leave her the fuck alone. She's tryin' make a new life. Rebuild after her marriage fell apart." He hesitated, unsure how much he should say, but then plowed ahead. "She tell you the trouble she was havin' with her art shit?"

"Yeah. Said it was part of why she came back."

Opie gave a curt nod. "She's workin' again. Started up not long after she got moved in. You keep fuckin' with her, you think that's gonna be good for it? You remember what happened when she was with TJ, don't you?"

"You comparin' me to TJ Flanary?" Juice said, his face scrunched in disbelief.

"Seems to me you and him got a few things in common these days." He let out a rough sigh and relented a little. "You're better than that, brother. I know you are. But if you can't be around her without wantin' to pull shit like you did today, then you need to steer clear. Don't speak to her. Don't go near her. Just stay the fuck away."

"I was tryin'—"

"Try. Harder," Opie said through gritted teeth. "Another stunt like this and I might forget you're a better guy than TJ Flanary. I might forget we're brothers. I don't think either of us wants that, and I know Olivia doesn't." He stepped closer. "She told me not to hurt you. I told her I was comin' to find you, and she said not to, then when she couldn't change my mind she told me not to hurt you because you're just angry."

"Fuck," he muttered.

"Yeah. You think she did what she did because she hated you, or out of spite? Fuck that. That's apparently your game; not hers."

Juice winced, but he couldn't really argue. Sometimes love got so poisonous, so painful, that it started to feel like hate. He didn't want that to happen between him and Olivia, and he knew if he kept fucking with her, if he kept obsessing over her, it would be inevitable.

"You think I should try to apologize?" he finally said.

"I don't know. You gonna mean it? You gonna use it as another excuse to fuck with her?"

He didn't answer, and Opie shook his head.

"Save it until you mean it. Otherwise just keep your mouth shut." He sighed. "Come on, numbnuts. In the office. I'll patch up your face."

"Yeah, Ope," Juice said, falling in step behind him. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Opie said. "Dipshit."

Honestly he needed to have some sense knocked into him.