I'm SO SORRY about the delay for this one, guys. I had some weird shit go down, rl-wise, and it left me blocked as hell. Good news is y'all get the longest chapter so far. :)

would you write would you call back baby if
i wrote you a song
i been gone but you're still my lady and
i need you at home
The Lumineers, "Flapper Girl"

Olivia nearly dreaded seeing Opie that night. She wanted to see him, of course, but she had to tell him about Juice and the sculpture, and she wasn't sure how he would take it. He was steady, usually. Slow to anger. Jealousy wasn't really his thing, and even if it were, he would surely recognize there wasn't anything to be jealous about here.

They made tacos for dinner, something they did together that was always a good time, and after he polished off the last one she got up to clear the plates.

He watched her circle the table to grab his, and he followed her into the kitchen to help with the dishes. She put the plug in the sink and turned on the water, and he lifted a brow as it filled—and she still didn't add detergent.

He grabbed the bottle of Dawn and squeezed some in, and she jumped like he'd startled her. "Oh," she said. "Whoops."

"Uh huh." He swapped places with her—it might be a better idea for her to dry tonight—and started on the first plate. He handed it to her and she gave it a distracted swipe.

"You gonna tell me what's on your mind, babe? Or do I gotta guess?"

She frowned. A guilty flush crept up her neck and over her cheeks. "It's not…it's not a real big deal."

"Huh. That's why you're actin' so spaced out? Over somethin' that's not a real big deal."

Her eyes were big as she looked up at him. He leaned away a little, so it didn't seem like he was crowding her. "It's about Juice."

"Yep." He sponged salsa from a bowl and rinsed it out. "Figured. Lay it on me."

This time she dried more carefully, very carefully, and he couldn't help but grin. He took the bowl away and set it in the drying rack. Grabbed her hands in his and led her out of the kitchen and into the den. Once they were settled on the couch, he brushed the hair back from her forehead and gave her a soft kiss.

"Just tell me, Oll. Whatever it is."

"It's not—I mean, it's not…just…he came by today."

He blinked. "Okay," he said, slowly.

"He came by because he wanted me to fix something for him."

Opie snorted. "Kid's a fuckin' mechanic. Some sort of goddamn computer prodigy, too. What he have that he couldn't fix himself?"

She took a deep breath and her teeth sank into her lower lip. "One of my sculptures. From that show in San Francisco. Remember?"

"Uh." He ducked his head and tugged at his beard. "Yeah, course I remember. You gave me one. You said it was, like—about me."

"Mmhmm," he said. "I made one for—for Juice and me, too. A sort of…ode, I guess? To our relationship."

He stared at her, and she hurried to fill the silence.

"I mean it'd been years, and I'd been married to Ben for a little while by then, but after the way we left it, and the way I left Charming—it was like my form of closure, you know? Goodbye, Juice Ortiz. Here's your sculpture have a nice life."

"You give it to him?"

"No. Nope. He bought it. All on his own."

Opie smoothed both hands down his jeans and went very still. "He know what it meant?"

"He had no way of it. No one knew. I didn't tell anyone about that one. Not even Tara. It was…special, I guess."

Still he didn't move. Barely even blinked. Olivia shifted nervously. It was alarming when he did this. It meant he was thinking very deeply about something, or maybe trying not to get pissed. Or just trying to figure out how he felt about it at all.

"All this time you didn't know?" he said at last. "That he was the one who bought it, I mean."

"No, how could I?" She lifted her hands in a shrug. "Elsbeth never told me the buyer's name. I just assumed it was someone who saw the promo shit and really wanted that one work."

"Hhhmm" was all he said. Nothing else for a long time.

"Opie?" she murmured.

He shook his head like waking up from a dream and pushed himself to his feet. "Gonna take a shower and head to bed. Been a long day."

"Ope—"

"I ain't mad, Oll. Nothin' like that. I just need a minute."

She frowned, but finally she nodded. That was just Opie. Pushing him would make him clam up harder. He'd tell her what was going on in his head; she had to give him time to make sense of it.

"Harry?" she said to his back.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He cast a look over his shoulder. "I know, babe. I love you too."

Several minutes later she heard the shower start. She pressed shaking hands to her face and slumped into the couch. She could not let something this stupid fuck up what she had with Opie. He was who she wanted. Yes, she still thought about Juice sometimes, but not in a present-tense way. Juice was her then. Opie was her now.

She finished up the dishes and switched the rump roast from the freezer to the fridge to thaw. Tomorrow before she left for work she'd start it in the crockpot; Opie loved pot roast, and she owed him one after today.

He was already in bed by the time she got there. He was reading, but when he saw her he put his book aside with a smile. "Hey, babe," he said.

"Thought you'd be half asleep by now."

He held out a hand and her palm slid into his. "Was waitin' on you."

Settling in next to him, she rested her head on his shoulder and took a deep breath of his just-showered scent.

"How'd it get broken?" he said, and she could feel the rumble of his voice through his chest.

"I guess his girlfriend hit it with a vacuum cleaner. Accidentally."

"Huh," he said.

She cast him a quick look. "What?"

His shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. "Nothin'. Just—awful convenient. His girlfriend breakin' the sculpture you made about the two of you."

"I'm sure she knew I made it, but she didn't know the other thing. I told you: no one did. It's just a coincidence he got that one."

He made a low, doubtful noise. Not that he didn't believe her, more she still surprised him sometimes. "Oll, you—you ain't got a clue, do you?"

A deep frown and a long, confused blink. "About what?"

He sighed and cupped her face in his big hand. "Baby, when somebody loves you, they don't do it halfway. It ain't possible. And love like that—it don't die easy."

"Ope, Juice isn't—"

"I'm not sayin' now. But back then? When you did that show? Yeah."

That troubled her, and she went quiet. After a moment she slid down in bed and flipped over with her back to him. Opie gave a brief sigh. Wrapped himself around her and pulled her tight against him. His nose in her hair and his hands pressed flat against her tummy, her back nestled to his chest.

"I love you, Oll. I know what I'm talkin' about."

She tangled her fingers through his and squeezed. "I love you too, Harry. You're who I want."

"I know," he murmured in her ear. "I do know that." He kissed her neck, his lips warm and soft. "You're who I want, too."

"Okay," she said. Her voice sounded thick, and he thought maybe she was crying.

"Shhh, baby girl. Shhh, don't cry."

"I'm not."

He held her tighter, and after a moment her small body shook in his arms. "Olivia?"

"It's all so fucked up, Opie," she said through her sniffles. "Sometimes I think I shouldn't've come back here at all. I could've gone to New York. Chicago. LA. But no. I come to Charming. I knew how Juice felt; he made himself real fuckin' clear. So why here?"

There was a paused while he thought it over. He stroked a hand down her back, a soothing, loving gesture, and she arched into it like a cat. "I know you still love him."

She went still, tight as a coiled spring. "Opie, no. I mean, yeah, of course a little. But not like—"

His sigh interrupted her, and he buried his face in the side of her neck to kiss and nip at her throat. Down the curve of her shoulder. His hand moved under her shirt and up her body to cup her breast in his palm. "I don't care that you still love him. I don't care he still loves you. It don't matter at all."

"I'm glad I came back," she whispered. "No matter what happens. Because you and me—we needed this second chance."

He laughed, a brief snort. "We did. And, ya know, I don't give up easy either."

Her brow furrowed. "You don't have anything to give up about, Opie."

A low thoughtful noise, and he kneaded her breast almost absently. "It don't really matter anyway."

She tried to twist to face him, but he held her in place. She wiggled: his cock was hot and hard against her ass, and she rocked against it with a soft, eager noise. "Why?" she said on a breath. "What do you mean?"

"I don't care about none of it," he growled. He bit her ear. "How he feels or doesn't. He had his chance. He blew it. You're my girl now. Aren't you, Olivia? My girl."

"Yes, Harry. Your girl. I told you: you're who I want."

"I know I am." He pushed her panties down to bare her ass and gave it a sharp smack. She yelped and subsided into strained panting.

"Babe," she breathed, "after last night I'm not sure—"

"I can be easy," he said, but his rough voice made her think otherwise. He squeezed her thigh and she moaned. She felt his erection brush her skin—she had no idea when he'd lost his shorts—and she whimpered.

"Don't."

He froze, and she made an impatient gesture.

"Don't be easy."

He gritted his teeth to muffle a groan. "Don't wanna hurt you, baby girl."

"Opie—"

"Hush," he whispered. "I'm gonna take good care of you, sweetheart." He wiggled until his cock was nestled firm against her ass, and his hand slid down the front of her panties. Two fingers brushed across her clit, eliciting a heated moan. "Nobody else matters, Oll. Just us. It's just us here."

"I know, Opie," she said. "I know."

He worked her clit with his fingertips, rubbing in a slow circle, then flicking. He eased them into her and held them there. Her breath came in gasps, and he chuckled as he kissed the curve of her ear.

"Fuck my fingers, baby," he said. "Come all over my hand."

A rush of air from her lungs, and her hips moved in an unhurried, sinuous undulation. He gritted his teeth and pressed closer, so that every time she moved they were grinding against each other. She rested her hand over his, through the cotton of her underwear, and bucked.

"God, Opie!" she breathed. "I love you so much."

"Love you too, Ollie. Always will." He bit the side of her neck and sucked hard enough to leave a mark. At her noise of protest he grinned. "Wear a scarf."

She dripped down his hand; he curled his fingers inside her to tap her G-spot. Her voice was a hot whimper, almost a whine, and her free hand clenched his hip, her strong fingers digging into the skin so that it was white all around.

"Sweet, sexy Ollie," he murmured in her ear. "My baby girl. Wanted you so long, sweetheart. Love you so much. I make you feel so good, don't I?"

"Yeah, Opie," she said, short and sharp. "Yeah, yes, fuck, so good!"

"Come for me, babe. Come all over me need to feel you."

"Close, fuck, that's good, don't stop!"

He moved with her, grunting a little when she rocked back into him. Her movements became erratic, more stuttering, and he could tell she was almost there. He kept up the litany of dirty, erotic whispers and words of love even as she begged him for more. He closed his eyes and his head fell back: God he loved to hear her beg.

"Opie, Harry, baby, fuck please please that's right just like that!"

The hand that had been on his hip lifted to grab at his hair instead. She pulled hard enough to make him wince, but the pain felt weirdly good. Fucking amazing, actually, and his balls were starting to get tight and achy as her orgasm closed in.

"Good girl, Ollie, good girl, that's it that's good, come for me," he urged in a rusty, lust-wrecked voice.

She was still a little sore from last night's exertions, but it didn't matter. His body against hers, his cock on her ass, his fingers buried deep inside—and, Jesus, his voice in her ear—made her forget any lingering aches and pains. Her legs shook and her tummy tightened and the heat swamped her in a long, rolling wave.

"Yes!" she gasped, and he moaned as her cunt clenched around him. He worked her through every last, lingering shudder of it, whispering encouragement the whole time, and once she finally fell still he mouthed sweat from the side of her neck.

"Jesus, Ope," she said.

He grinned and pulled his hand free. His fingers were slick and shiny, and as much as he knew she wanted to lick them clean for him, he had other plans.

She cast a look over his shoulder. "What are you—?" Her eyes widened when she felt them against her ass, then stroking his cock. He wiggled them between her thighs and dragged more of her wetness over his erection, until he was nice and slippery on her skin.

"Be still, baby," he said. He got a firm grip on her hip, and she twined her fingers through his. When she tried to wiggle he bit her shoulder. "What did I say?"

She muffled a tiny groan. "Be still."

"That's right." He kissed the spot that still bore the mark from his teeth. "Be still."

He rocked into her, his erection sliding over her ass and between her legs. He pulled her against him more firmly, and the tip of him nudged into her. She whimpered, and she could feel his mouth as he grinned. He pulled back, creating a delicious friction across her perineum and the curve of her ass.

"Opie," she murmured.

"Gonna come all over you, baby girl. That okay?"

She bit her lip hard enough to hurt and her head jerked in a nod. "Yeah, Ope. Please?"

He groaned. Squeezed her hip. And began to move in earnest. He guided her so that she rocked with him, just the way he liked, and it wasn't long before he was grunting and making this particular little whine that had her pulse all in a scramble.

"Fuck, Ollie, fuck you feel so good. You're so wet for me, so slick and hot. You like that? You like me humpin' you like this?"

She almost couldn't believe it, but she did. She really did. "Yeah, babe, yes, God that's good!"

"My girl, Olivia," he almost growled. "My woman. No one else's."

"That's right, Opie. Your woman. And you're my man. All mine."

"Goddamn gonna come, gonna come for you, gonna come all over your pretty little cunt and your sexy round ass."

"Please, please, please!"

He couldn't resist her when she did that, begged all desperate and hungry, and with a rough cry and one last thrust of his hips his dick jerked and he was coming all over her, just like he'd promised. A heated spill, a frenzied rush, stars exploding behind his eyes and her name on his lips like sweet wine.

"God, baby, fuck, holy shit," he managed even as he tried desperately to catch his breath.

She moaned, and gradually he softened against her. "Wow," she said.

He gasped out a laugh. "Yeah. Wow." When he thought he could move without passing out, he pushed her onto her belly and climbed on top of her.

"Opie?"

"Gotta get you cleaned up, sweetheart. Can't let you lay around covered in come."

She gave a breathless giggle. "That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of you."

"Nuh uh." His mouth was on her back, licking and kissing and nibbling his way down her spine. "Not gentlemanly at all."

When she felt his tongue slick along the swell of her ass she wiggled. "Well then, baby boy. Better get to it."

Three days later, and Juice and Olivia were on at the shop together. They hadn't spoken much since he came by with the sculpture, but for some reason she got the idea that had more to do with Yvonne than with Olivia. It seemed (from what Olivia was able to gather from around) that they'd gotten into a fight, and while no one was saying about what (because Juice wasn't), he'd crashed at the clubhouse the same night Yvonne had broken the sculpture.

Olivia had always been good at math, and two and two could usually be relied upon to equal four.

Gemma left early that day for a hair appointment, so Olivia took over for her in the office. Finally it was closing in on five, and Olivia couldn't wait to get out of there. She hated working in the office. She wanted to fix cars, not total out invoices. She was going through the last little stack of them when the door to the garage opened and Juice wandered in. His face was pale, and he held a paper towel against one hand.

It was turning red.

She jumped up so fast the chair flew out behind her and hit the filing cabinet. She ignored it. "Jesus, Ortiz, what did you do?"

"Nothin'. I mean. Just a dumb accident. Kinda bleedin', though."

She sighed and searched the drawer for the first aid kit. "Sit down. Let me have a look."

He sank down onto the sofa, and a moment later she joined him there. Sweat popped out on his forehead, and he went from pale to a sort of greenish gray. Not a great look.

"Let me see," she said. She took his hand in hers and gently peeled the paper towel away. The gash was impressive. Kind of deep. Long, but not wide. "Juice," she said, frowning, "I think you might need stitches."

"Uh…" If possible his color got even worse at that. "I'd kinda rather not. Just put some of that glue shit on it. I'll be fine."

"I don't—"

He gave her an almost desperate look. "Please, Liv. I don't want to go to the hospital."

She chewed on her lip a moment. Shot and almost killed when he was sixteen. His mother dead of cancer by the time he was twenty-two. Yeah, okay. Maybe no hospital if it could be avoided. "I'm calling Tara, though," she said. "At least let her look at it."

He let out a long, shaky breath. "Deal."

Still not entirely happy, but knowing she had to take little victories where she could find them, Olivia wrapped some gauze around his hand and went to call Tara. She filled her in on the situation, but luckily she didn't have to explain Juice's aversion to hospitals.

"She's on her way," she said as she sat next to him again.

"Great," he said. "Thanks, Liv."

"She said to go ahead and disinfect it and wrap it gently. So, um." She carefully peeled away the gauze and poured some hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball. "Hold this," she said, handing him the bottle.

He hissed as she dabbed at the cut, and she winced. "Sorry."

"S'okay. Startled me more than anything."

She held his hand steady and they both went quiet as she worked. He couldn't help but study her face: the line of concentration between her brows. Her lower lip caught between her teeth. The scrunch to her nose that he'd kissed more times than he could count.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" she said without looking up.

"It was stupid," he muttered. "Just caught my hand on that fuckin' spring on the garage door. You know the one."

"Hhhmm. I thought Jax fixed that."

"Me too. S'why I wasn't bein' as careful as normal."

"You need a tetanus shot?" she said. "I can call Tara back—"

"Nah. I got one last year." He held up his other hand to show her a small white scar. "Fixin' my lawnmower. Caught one of the blades."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Smooth, Ortiz," she said.

He glowered, but his mouth was twitching as he fought off a smile. "I guess I'm kinda accident prone for someone who rides a motorcycle and fixes engines."

"Uh huh," she said, and by that time they were both laughing.

The door to the lot opened, and Olivia flashed Juice a smile. "That was fast," she said, but when she looked that way she saw it wasn't Tara at all. Her first instinct was to drop Juice's hand, but she fought the urge. They weren't doing anything, and that would make it look like they were. "Oh. Hey."

"Hey," Opie said, drawing the syllable out doubtfully.

Juice's brow creased with worry, but it smoothed before he twisted around. "Hey, bro," he said.

"Sorry," Olivia said. "I thought you were Tara. Juice cut his hand, and I called her to come take a look."

"Ah," he said. "I just stopped in to tell you I might be a little late tonight."

"Okay," she said with a smile. "I'm sure I can entertain myself for a few hours. Want me to wait to eat?"

He waved a hand. "Whatever works for you. I'll just grab somethin' when I get in if you already ate."

Juice shifted in his seat. The conversation was banal enough, but for some reason he felt like he was intruding on something intimate. "I should maybe get back to work," he mumbled.

"You're not going anywhere, Ortiz," she said. "Not until Tara looks at this hand. Sit there and be quiet."

Opie couldn't smother a grin. He walked around them to get a good look at Juice's hand and let out a low whistle. "Shit, man. That fuckin' spring again?"

"Yeah," he said with a grimace. "Jax said he fixed it."

"Said he did. But you know how he's been since the kid."

"Uh huh," Juice said. "Off in orbit someplace."

"Can't really blame him. I'd flip if it were my kid."

"Mmhmm," Olivia said. "Luckily I don't do drugs." As soon as it was out of her mouth her eyes went huge. "I mean—fuck, I didn't mean—I'm not pregnant. And I have no plans to be. I just meant—"

Opie cleared his throat to hide a laugh and Juice went red around the ears. "It's okay, babe," Opie said. "I'm not gonna hold you to it."

She shot him a glare, and he leaned down to kiss her. A long kiss. Deep. Lots of tongue. Not at all the way he normally kissed her in public. His fingers tightened in her hair, briefly, before they trailed down her neck. He pulled away, his forehead resting on hers. "See you tonight, baby girl?" he murmured in a voice that made her fight a shiver.

"Yeah, Ope. You know where to find me."

One last kiss to the tip of her nose, then he straightened and clapped Juice on the shoulder. "Be careful, brother. It's a dangerous world out there."

"Uh huh," he said, nonplussed.

The door closed behind Opie, and Olivia only then realized she hadn't let go of Juice's hand the whole time she'd been kissing Opie. She dropped it quickly and scooted away. "Sorry. I'm sorry about that. He doesn't normally—"

"What?" Juice said, his tone carefully mild. "Kiss you? Looks like he's had plenty of practice to me."

"In public. He knows I don't really care for that sort of thing in public."

Juice's mouth curved in a sardonic grin. "Either he doesn't consider me public, or the whole thing was for my benefit. Pretty sure we know the answer to that one."

"Juice." The line between her brows deepened. "It's not like that. Come on."

"You told him about the sculpture? I mean, like, all of it?"

"Yeah, of course I did."

"Right. And like three days later he walks in to us holding hands. I dunno, Liv. I think I'd react in the exact same way."

Her body went stiff, her mouth tight. "We weren't holding—"

"You know what I mean." His dark eyes were steady on hers, and she felt heat ripple through her: across her cheeks. Between her breasts. Creeping up her neck like a sunburn.

Neither of them spoke, and the silence stretched taut. He reached for her, but she jerked away. "Don't."

"Olivia—"

"Don't make this into something it's not, Juice. You're hurt. I was helping you. That's it."

He lifted a brow. "And the other day?"

"When you brought the sculpture?" She dismissed it with a flick of her fingers. "It was hot. I was dehydrated. There was a lot of nostalgia. Nothing happened." She paused, and her look was significant. "Nothing is going to happen."

He searched her face, and she could feel it almost like a physical touch. Her flush deepened. Her palms prickled and she rubbed them against her jeans.

"I know it's not," he finally said. "I don't want it to, either. I got a good thing with Yvonne, and I'd never wanna fuck it up for you and Opie."

"I know you wouldn't," she said. "So please explain what's going on here, Ortiz. I'm fuckin' confused."

His lips moved in a tremulous smile and he gave a quick jerk of his head. He let his chin fall to his chest, and when he looked up again his expression was strange and inscrutable. "I'll never stop lovin' you, Liv. Simple as that."

Her mouth fell open on a breath. Her eyes darted down: somehow his hand had come to rest on her knee. She didn't think he even realized it. "Of course you won't," she said. Her voice shook. "Because I won't ever stop loving you either."

In that moment all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Her head spun, and the only thing steadying her was his warm palm on her leg. His fingers tightened; squeezed; and she drew in a breath. His gaze brushed over her mouth, briefly, and she felt a hot ache in the pit of her stomach. They had drifted closer, somehow, and she could feel his breath on her cheek, a warm, minty bloom.

He knew exactly how she would taste. She knew just how his lips would feel on hers. He would tangle a hand in her hair and his tongue would slide so sweet against hers.

"Juicy…"

"Shh. Don't."

"We can't. I love him."

"I know. I know you do."

Her pupils were huge, his mouth soft, and on her leg his hand twitched like he was fighting the urge to grab her.

The door behind him flew open and Tara rushed in, like a sudden clap of thunder to shatter the tension. "I'm here! Where's the—oh shit."

Olivia brushed the tears off her cheeks—when had she even started to cry?—and jumped up. "It's not that bad, really," she said, talking too quickly but unable to stop. "I just thought a real actual professional should look at it, because it might need stitches and I didn't want it to get infected. He cut it on the garage door, but he said he had a tetanus shot last year, so that should be okay. Anyway, I'll let you—" She made an awkward gesture at Juice and stepped out of Tara's way.

Tara touched her arm, and her voice was soft. "Go find something to do. Then we're going to talk. Okay?"

"It's not at all what you think," she murmured.

"Right. Sure." She smiled a little and kissed Olivia's cheek. "We'll talk."

Juice and Tara watched her leave, and when Juice turned back to see Tara's face he had to fight the urge to flee. "So. Um. Nice weather, huh?"

She dropped down next to him and yanked his hand closer. "Shut up, Ortiz," she said.

He swallowed hard and looked away. "Yes, ma'am."

Hopefully I won't go away again. Things are getting interesting now. :)