Haha, okay. The original draft of this chapter was 6.2k words long, which was WAY too much. I took what was meant to be the first bit and stuck it at the end of 41, so you might wanna take a quick hop back and just read the last section there.
As it is this is still a pretty monster chapter, but at this point things are either happening in short little bursts, or in epic sprawls like this.
perfect summer's night
not a wind that breathes
just the bullets whispering gentle
'mongst the new green leaves
there's things i might have said
only wish i could
now i'm leaking life faster
than i'm leaking blood
David Gray, "The One I Love"
"Pull over. I need to call Gemma."
Olivia cut her eyes across the car at Tara. "I'd think Gemma was the last person you'd want to call."
"I have to make sure she's away from her house, and she stays away for a while. I don't want her to hear the engine noise, so pull over."
She did as Tara asked and cut the engine. Tara took a deep breath and hit the button for Gemma's speed dial. Olivia listened as she told Gemma she was at the cabin and needed help with Bobby. She must have asked about Olivia, because Tara said, "I don't want to bother Ollie after the day she's had. You know she's been sick."
They talked another minute or two before Tara hung up and offered Olivia a quick, nervous smile. "She bought it. She's on her way up there now."
"So her house first, or yours? We need car seats for the boys, right?"
"Yeah. Better make it—" She broke off when Olivia's phone rang.
She fumbled for it, hoping it was Juice. Instead she stared at the caller ID with a confused scowl. "It's Gemma."
"She might want to know if you can go instead. Put her off somehow."
"Maybe I should just ignore it."
"No, that might make her suspicious. Go ahead and answer."
She caught the call just before it rolled to voicemail. "Gemma! Hi, what's up?"
"Hey, Ollie. You feelin' okay?"
"Um. Yeah. It was a…well. You know what kind of day it was. But I'm fine, I guess."
Gemma took a long breath and let it out slowly. "Tara just called me. She needs help up at the cabin, but she didn't want to bother you."
"Okay…?" Olivia said. She didn't want to volunteer to go in Gemma's place in case she took the offer.
"I'm on my way up there now, but I need you here at Diosa."
Now her confusion was genuine. "Diosa? Why would you need me at Diosa?"
Gemma hesitated a moment. When she spoke again her voice was grim. "Juice is here."
"Wait. What? Why would Juice—"
"Just listen a sec, Ollie. He took a bunch of oxy and he's had a lot to drink. He passed out. He's not—he's not in great shape."
Her mouth fell open. Tara watched her with an avid, worried expression. "Gemma, what…how much—how many did he take?"
A hard sigh. "Six, baby. He took six pills and drank a full bottle of tequila."
"Holy shit," she whispered.
"Yeah. I need you here, Ollie. Nero's with him now, and he's got him up and walking, but I know it would do him good to see you." She paused. "I guess there's somethin' goin' on between you, some sort of trouble in paradise, but now's not the time—"
"Fuck you, Gemma. This is not my fault."
"Didn't say it was, sweetheart," she said, mildly. "You just need to put whatever it is aside and get over here."
Olivia clenched her teeth. "I'm on my way." She slammed the phone shut and leaned forward to brace her forearms on the steering wheel. "Juice is at Diosa," she told Tara.
"I heard. My God, Ollie."
"Gemma said he passed out, but now they've got him up and walking around." Her brow creased. "Tara—"
"It's okay. You have to go. I understand. Just drop me at home and I'll take it from there."
Olivia started to say something else, but instead she just nodded and started the car. They were only a few miles from the house Jax and Tara shared, and all was dark and quiet when they pulled in. Olivia helped her load the car with the suitcases she'd already packed, and as Tara shut the back door they both paused.
"Will I see you again?" Olivia said.
"I don't know. I don't think so."
They embraced, both of them near tears. "I'm sorry. I wish I could—"
"Ollie, no. You've done enough. If you got caught—"
"What if you get caught?"
"Thanks to you hopefully I won't be." She gripped Olivia's arms and managed a shaky smile. "Get Juice, Ollie. Get out of Charming. The club's coming down, and I don't want the two of you caught up in it."
"Are you really gonna do this, Tara?"
"I have to keep my boys safe. I don't know any other way."
She closed her eyes and nodded a little. "Yeah. Do what you need to do. I'll cover for you."
They hugged again, and this time they were crying. "Thank you, Ollie. I love you."
"I love you too. Be careful, okay?"
"You too."
With one last squeeze Olivia pulled away and brushed a hand across her face. She crossed her arms and started toward her car.
"Ollie!" Tara said.
She turned with a quizzical cant to her head.
"Juice loves you. You know that, right?"
"Of course I do. But Jax loves you, Tara. Is that enough?"
She was silent, and even in the semi-dark Olivia could see the resigned set to her mouth. "Juice isn't Jax," she said at last. "I think things can work out better for you than they have for me. You've just gotta get out. Get out before it's too late."
It might already be too late, she thought but didn't say. Instead she just gave a quick, sharp jerk of her head and hurried on to her car. She sat and watched as Tara started the SUV and backed out of the driveway. She raised her hand in a wave that Olivia returned with a sad, hopeful smile.
They both suspected it. Neither of them knew for sure. But they both thought it was probably the last time they would ever see each other.
When Olivia walked in at Diosa, Lyla said something to the girl she was talking to and hurried over. She threw her arms around Olivia and held her tight.
"Ollie, thank God you're here. When he came in he was already a mess. I didn't want him to be alone, but I couldn't stay with him, so I sent a girl in there I trust, one of our girls. I explained everything to her, and she never would have—"
"It's okay, Lyla. I'm not worried about that part. Just tell me what's going on."
Lyla laced her arm through Olivia's and led her back toward the room where she'd stashed Juice. "He was passed out when she walked in. I saw he'd taken the pills, and Gemma helped him throw up. Nero's been walking with him, but I had to come back out here. We've got clients."
"Lyla." She took her friend by the arms and managed a smile. "I know you did everything you could for him. Thank you for being here." They hugged again and Olivia broke away first. It had been quite the night for hugs, and she had never been much of a hugger.
Neither of them spoke as Olivia pushed the door open and tried to make sense of the scene. At first she didn't even see Juice. Nero had his back to the door, and his head was bent. She followed the line of his gaze down and there he was, collapsed on the floor in the corner. She cast a look at Lyla, who just shook her head.
"Get back to work," Olivia said, softly. "I've got this."
Lyla squeezed her hand and hurried away. Olivia stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Nero spun at the sound, and the look on his face was so feral she fell back with a hard breath.
"What—?"
He charged at her. Threw his arm back toward Juice. "Did you know?" he cried.
"Know what? Nero—"
Then, through the din, she finally made out what Juice was muttering: "I'm so sorry. Didn' wanna kill her. She didn' mean it. She was s'sad. Didn' wanna do it."
Olivia's eyes went wide. They flicked from Nero to Juice and back again. "I think you've got the wrong idea, Nero."
"Oh no, your boy here's made it pretty fuckin' clear. He killed Darvany, and Jax made the call. That about right?"
Her expression turned hard. She stepped closer and glared up at him. "Juice did not kill Darvany. I promise you that much."
"She's dead, Olivia! If he didn't kill her, then tell me who did!"
"It wasn't Juice," she said through gritted teeth.
"You gonna try to tell me it was you? Because you could barely walk, so don't think I'm gonna buy that load of shit."
She rested her hand on his arm. Their eyes met, hers green and bright, his dark and furious. "Nero, listen to me. I know you're angry—"
"Did Jax order Juice to kill that girl or not, Olivia?"
She swallowed hard. At that moment she stood at a crossroads: did she sell out Jax to Nero, then grab Juice and run? Or did she try to cover for him? Lie for him, to a man she both liked and respected, for no other reason than to protect Jax Teller's ass. She could see it all laid out like a map, and there was a long, tense silence as she decided which path to take.
"It was a confusing day," she said. "And I'd been shot, as you just pointed out."
"Uh huh. But you know enough to promise me Juice didn't kill her."
"Jax could be like a son to you, Nero. You could help him. He needs someone who doesn't buy into all this bullshit, this club life."
"I'm too old to adopt. I had this same conversation with Gemma earlier today." Some of the anger eased from his expression. He didn't want to scare her. Whatever had happened, none of it was her fault, and if she was covering for Juice—well, who could blame her? She loved him.
"Just tell me what happened, Ollie. That's all I'm askin'. Your name stays out of it, no matter what goes down. You've got my word."
"And Juice?"
He made an impatient gesture. "I'll try to keep him out of it, too."
It hardly mattered. Jax would have to know who had told him. Otherwise why the fuck would Nero suspect anything now, after all this time? She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingertips before she raised her head again.
"Someone who had a vested interest in keeping Darvany quiet got nervous, especially after the incident with the gun, that she was too unstable to be trusted. Juice was ordered to make sure she didn't talk. I can promise you he did not kill her." Her tone was measured, precise, and she chose each word with care.
"But you're not gonna tell me who did, and you're not gonna say Jax's name even though he's the only one who coulda made that call."
Her only answer was silence. She lifted a brow, and after a moment he fell back with a resigned nod. He lifted his hands. "Fine, Ollie. I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do."
"This isn't about loyalty to the club, Nero. I know you understand that."
"You're a smart girl, Olivia. I hope to hell you know what you're doing."
"So do I," she admitted with a rueful smile. "But it's too late in the game to change my bet now."
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I'll help you get him up. After that I gotta get out of here. Need some air."
"Thank you, Nero," she said. "I owe you. We both do."
His mouth moved in a bitter moue. "I'll remember you said that."
Juice opened his eyes the next morning and immediately screwed them shut again. There was a jackhammer in his head and it felt like something had died in his mouth. He slowly cracked open one eye, then the other. He staggered out of bed to the bathroom and swished some water around in his mouth. There was a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste on the edge of the sink. He used them gratefully.
As he wandered back toward the bed he saw that both sides were rumpled. He froze. Had he—? No. There was no way. He'd been way too smashed last night to do anything, let alone—that. He crawled back under the covers and sniffed the other pillow.
It smelled like Olivia. He tried to remember what had happened last night, but all he knew for sure what that he was at Diosa and his skull felt like it was about to explode. He had maybe the worst hangover of his entire life.
He sat hunched over with his head in his hands. He heard the door open, but a wave of nausea hit when he tried to look up, so he stayed where he was instead.
"You look like shit, Ortiz."
He raised his head slowly. Her mouth was curved in a sardonic smile and she held a tray in her hands. She was wearing the t-shirt he'd had on yesterday. Her legs were bare. "Olivia?" he said in a thick, choking voice.
"The one and only." She walked around the bed and set the tray down before she climbed in next to him. She dropped two tablets into a short glass of water and handed it to him. "Drink that. It'll help with the headache and the nausea."
He took a sip and made a face. "Ugh."
"I know. Drink up."
He did as she ordered and finished off the water in a few long gulps. She smiled and swapped the empty glass for one filled with orange juice.
"Drink it slowly. The folic acid helps with nausea, too, and of course you need to rehydrate."
"What's that?" he said and pointed at the plate.
She held it up. "This, my friend, is the scientifically proven miracle hangover cure you've been looking for. Three slices of bacon on white bread. Carbs, protein, amino acids—all the good stuff your body needs to recover from the abuse you put it through last night." She set the plate in his lap. "Eat up, sugar. It's not gettin' in your tummy through osmosis."
He frowned down at the sandwich, but despite his roiling gut the smell was tempting. He had a tentative bite. Chewed slowly and swallowed. "Not bad," he said. "You cook this?"
"It's just bacon, Ortiz. Anyone can cook bacon."
He grinned and finished off both the sandwich and the juice under her watchful eye. By the time he was done the Alka-Seltzer was starting to kick in. He actually did feel a little better. When he told her so she made face like he'd just insulted her. Of course he felt better.
"I was married to an Irish mobster for six years. I know a thing or two about hangovers."
Sometimes the references she made to her old life were so glib and offhand that they left him taken aback. It was probably easier for her to make a joke out of it. You couldn't torture yourself with the past all the time, a lesson he would hopefully learn one day.
He sat back against the pillows, but she stayed upright. Her shoulders were tense. He wondered how she'd gotten here.
"What time is it?" he said.
"Still early. Eight-ish, I think."
He stared at the long rope of braid down her back. It caught the light when she shifted and flared gold amidst the red. "Olivia—"
"Don't," she said, a sharp crack. She twisted toward him, and the pain in her face made him cringe. "What the hell were you thinking, Juice? Why would you do something like that? You promised you'd always come home to me!"
He dropped his head and scrubbed at his face. "I fucked up, baby. I'm sorry. I fucked up so bad. I just kept thinkin' about Clay and about you, and—I don't even know what happened. I tried to call, but you didn't answer."
"I know," she said. "I called you back and left a message, but I guess you'd already turned your phone off. Juicy, I'm so sorry."
He stared at her, wide-eyed. "You're sorry? Olivia, none of this is your fault."
"I should have been there. I promised you I would be and I let you down."
"No, babe. No." He pulled her to him despite her token resistance. "You never once let me down, Liv. I knew how much you hurt, and I walked away anyway. I didn't trust you, or us, and the second things got rocky I just turned my back. It's my fault."
"I should have told you," she said.
"I wish you had so I coulda been there. I would've held your hand. That's my job."
Her eyes dropped. "There are some things you don't know. About—about me."
He lifted her chin. "Tara told me what the doctor said. She told me why you did it."
Her mouth fell open. "Oh God," she managed.
"It doesn't change anything. I mean, it doesn't change how I feel about you. I wish I could go back and do everything different. I know I fucked up. I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me everything."
Tears overflowed her eyes and slid down her cheeks. "It wasn't you, Juicy. I just couldn't. I couldn't bear you to know. I'm so messed up. I'm so bad for you."
He cupped her face and tangled his fingers in her hair. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You gotta know that. I love you, Olivia. I need you. I'll do anything you want. Anything, just name it. You need time, you got it. Just talk to me, baby, please."
Her reply was to scoot closer, until she was in his lap, and press her mouth against his. His hands hovered in confusion, and she held one to her hip and the other to her waist. "Don't tell me you've forgotten how this works already," she murmured as she kissed him again.
He shifted beneath her. He was suddenly very conscious of his own nudity. "Nooo," he said. His hand drifted down to her bare thigh. "I definitely remember. I just—are you sure—right now? Here?"
"Wouldn't be the first time we've had sex in a brothel," she said with a wicked grin. "This time we even have a bed."
That particular memory wasn't doing anything to help keep his libido in check. "Olivia, wait. Please, sweetheart, just—" He took her gently by the shoulders and pushed her away. "Hang on, Liv, please."
Her brows drew together. "If you don't want me you can just say so," she said.
"Of course I want you. I always want you. The only time I've touched you in over two weeks was yesterday in the bathroom. I'm goin' crazy wantin' you, babe."
She looked suddenly unsure. Vulnerable. "Okay, then…?"
He brushed her hair off her face and ran his thumb across her cheek. "I wanna make sure it's what you really want. I don't want you to think we have to, or that I'm not okay with waiting until you're ready."
She rested her hands against his chest. Her eyes were steady on his. She was so quiet and so still, and her face was unreadable. He wanted to ask what she was thinking, but he kept his mouth shut and waited her out. Finally her lips curved and she kissed him, long and soft and sweet.
"I love you, Juice Ortiz," she said.
"I love you too," he told her, confused, as she hopped out of bed. She made sure he was watching her (as if he could look anywhere else, even if he wanted to—which he definitely did not) as she slid her panties off and kicked them away. She pulled the sheet down, and when she climbed into his lap again it was skin against skin.
"You, uh." He cleared his throat. "You didn't want to take your shirt off too?"
"Your shirt. And I thought you might want to help me with that." She guided his hands to her hips again and up under the t-shirt's hem. She leaned close. Her mouth was so close to his he could feel the whisper of her lips as she spoke. "Ask me again if I'm sure," she said.
His breath caught in his throat. He moved a little and she made a low noise of disapproval.
"Ask me," she said.
"Are you—are you sure, Liv?"
She sucked his lower lip. Ran her tongue across it. Nipped it with her lips. "Are you?"
"Fuck yes," he said on a breath.
"Really for sure sure or just that kinda sure like at three AM when you're watching an infomercial and whatever they're advertising looks way too good to be true?"
He blinked at her, and once his sluggish brain decoded it all he let out a laugh. "For sure sure. Not the infomercial kind."
She held his face in her hands and kissed him. Her tongue ran over his and around the inside of his mouth. He kneaded her hips with both hands. He pushed the shirt up to just below her breasts and tickled her ribs. She wiggled and bit him.
"Hey!" he said, laughing. "That hurt."
"Mmmm." She wiggled some more. "You don't seem to mind that much."
"Well, no, I don't, but—whoa, what's the matter?"
Her face had suddenly transformed. Her eyes were wide, her skin pale. "There's something I need to tell you. It's kind of—bad. And—awkward. For you."
"That's your the club might want to kill you when they find this out face."
"Hah. Funny." She took a deep breath and told him everything that went down last night: how she'd missed his calls, how she'd helped Tara, how Gemma had called her to come to Diosa, and what had happened when she got there.
He listened to her story with growing incredulity, and as she finished his head fell back. "Fuck," he said.
"Succinct, but accurate."
"They're gonna wonder how Tara got away from the cabin."
"Maybe she called a cab. They won't think it was me. Why would they?"
He ran a hand back and forth over his scalp. "What about Nero?"
"I don't know, love. He was upset, obviously. He knows it was Jax."
"And I told him. And he's gonna go straight to Jax. And then I'm dead."
"Not if we get out now. If Tara makes that deal they'll be coming after the club. You'll all go to jail. As for me, there's no way I'll be able to avoid Atlanta. Yesterday you were ready to go. Are you still?"
"If we run they'll think we were in on it, or that we ratted. I don't want them to think that about either one of us."
"I am in on it, Juicy!"
"I know." He pulled her tight against him. "You're right. We were waiting for you to do what you promised Tara, and now you've done that. We'll leave. Today."
"Really?" she said. She hardly dared to hope.
"Yeah, really. You and me, remember?"
Her smile was blinding. "You and me, Juicy." The kiss stretched on and on, but when she tried to pull away he tugged her back. "We need to go pack," she said, a half-hearted protest as she returned his kisses with fervor.
"We've got time."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice thick and low. He flipped her over, and she laughed as her back hit the mattress. He brushed his lips over hers again and again, lingering a little longer each time. His hand moved from her belly up her body to rest just below her breasts.
"Babe, can I—?"
She nodded. "Everything's back to normal. Physically, anyway."
He winced. Instead of using his hand, he rucked the shirt up higher and dipped his head to run his tongue across first one nipple and then the other. She made a soft, breathless noise that went straight through him. He knew he'd missed her, but he had no idea how much until now. He let out a ragged breath and she smirked.
"Don't look at me like that," he said. "I'm tryin' to take my time."
She chuckled. "I know you are, baby," she said and brushed a hand over his head. "But maybe we could save that for another day? I appreciate the effort, but I'm about ten seconds away from jumping you."
"Oh really?"
She ran a hand down and wrapped her fingers around his cock. "Considering you've had this pressed against my thigh for the past several minutes, yeah. Really."
He let out a strangled gasp as she stroked the length of him. "I just, ahh—I didn't want to rush anything."
"Very thoughtful. Definitely one of the top ten reasons I'm so crazy about you."
"What are the other nine?" he said. He ran his nose up and down the smooth white skin of her neck. Flicked his tongue against her and left a trail of soft kisses.
"You want them alphabetically or, um, in order of, ah, preference?"
"Hhhmm." He pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Sucked one of her nipples into his mouth and rolled it between his lips. "How about the order they occur to you."
"Ohhh," she said, the syllable lengthening as he sucked harder.
He moved to lie between her legs. Stroked his hands down her thighs and lifted them until she locked her legs around his hips.
She kissed the corner of his jaw, just below his ear. "Your smile," she said. "The first time you smiled at me it made my tummy do this funny little flip thing and I ended up buying you a drink and, ultimately, taking you back to my room for some pretty serious sex."
He huffed out a laugh. His dark eyes stayed steady on hers as he slid into her, long and slow, and her body arched to meet him.
"That," she said, breathlessly. "I love that so fucking much. You feel so damn good. Is that shallow?"
"No." He kissed her. "I love it too. You're mine, Livvie, and I don't think I'll ever stop wanting you."
She closed her eyes. "Say it again, Juicy."
He lowered his head to murmur in her ear: "You're mine, Olivia. I love you."
She moaned softly and moved her hips with his. "And you want me?" she whispered.
"Don't ever doubt that, baby. I want you so fucking much I can't see straight. You make me crazy."
"Don't stop!" she said as he slowed.
"Not stopping," he said through gritted teeth. "Just gotta—can't—fuck, babe, you feel so good!"
She squeezed him deep inside and he groaned. "Goddamn, Livvie!"
"More, baby, please don't stop, more!"
He buried his face in her neck and thrust into her harder and faster. Pulled her legs up higher to change the angle and go even deeper. Her head fell back. He ran his tongue along her collarbone and lapped at the droplets of sweat that clung to her heated skin.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, and every moan and gasp and hot, aching plea spurred him on and made him want her that much more.
"I'll never get enough of you, baby," he whispered against her skin.
She wrapped her arms around him and cradled the back of his head in her hand. Her legs tightened, and with every thrust he felt the muscles jump and dance. His name and words of love and lust mixed with incoherent whimpers and soft cries as she matched him thrust for thrust. He held her still and ground against her. Rocked deeper in the way he knew she liked.
Their eyes met and held. The look on her face made his heart stutter and skip. How could he have doubted her? How could he have been so stupid? He caught her moans with his mouth, and as his teeth found her lip and his tongue ran over hers he felt her go tight around him.
"Yes, Juicy, yes so good fuck!" she cried. She came hard, long, intense shudders that took her breath and left her speechless. He grinned down at her, enraptured, and when she was finally coherent again she lifted a brow.
"Forget something?" she said.
"I got distracted," he breathed.
"Mmmm." She stretched her legs, running her feet down the back of his thighs and along his calves. She moved beneath him and he panted. His head dropped and she flicked her tongue against his scalp.
"So fucking close," he said, his voice ragged and cracked.
She kissed his temple and mouthed the salty dampness off his forehead. "I'd say it's your turn."
He groaned and bucked against her.
"Like that, baby," she murmured. "Come for me, Juicy. Let me feel you."
The muscles in his back rippled beneath her hands as he thrust into her. It didn't take long: a few quick, hard jerks of his hips; the lurid sound of skin against skin; her tantalizing whisper in his ear.
"Liv oh God baby I love you, I love you, can't get enough—!" She squeezed him over and over as he came, milking him dry with her hot velvet cunt until he thought he might pass out. He collapsed against her with a protracted groan, and for a long time neither of them moved.
She could feel his heart hammering against her chest, and hers matched his beat for frantic beat. They were both breathless, panting, and their bodies were slicked with sweat.
He finally raised his head and met her wide eyes with a drunken little half-smile. "You still owe me seven."
"Seven? Seven what?"
"Reasons." He kissed whatever was closest to his mouth; it happened to be her nipple. "Reasons why you're crazy about me."
She laughed, and he felt it like a buzz through his body. He pulled out and flipped over to lie next to her. "Come on," he said. "Spill it."
"Humm." She pressed a line of kisses down his chest. "You're a better cook than me."
"Olivia, the Swedish Chef is a better cook than you."
"Rude!" She swatted his shoulder and threw her legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed her around the waist and yanked her back. She gave a short, surprised shriek that he cut off with his mouth.
"Six," he said.
Her expression turned serious and she ran her fingers over his face. "You quiet me," she said, softly. "All that noise in my head, all that fear and anger and bullshit…when I'm with you it doesn't seem as important. Not gone, just—"
"Muted," he said.
"Muted. That's right."
He knew exactly what she meant because he'd often thought the same thing about her. "Olivia, promise me something."
"Yeah, Juicy. Name it."
He swallowed. His face was drawn in serious lines, and his dark eyes were intense as he studied her. Whatever he was about to say, it was important, and she knew she couldn't make the promise he wanted lightly.
"Don't keep something like this from me again, Liv. I mean, I know that this was a—unique—situation, but I mean something this big. I'm here, Olivia. Your shit is my shit. You and me, baby, no matter what."
Her lips curved and suddenly she was fighting tears. "You and me," she said. "I promise. No more secrets."
He dropped his head to kiss her, but just before their lips met she twisted away. The postcards flashed through her mind, and she knew she had to tell him about them. He pulled back with a confused frown, and just as she opened her mouth to explain, her phone rang.
They both jumped at the tinny, insistent noise.
"Fuck," she said. "Who the fuck is calling me before ten AM?"
He reached for it and glanced at the screen. "It's Jax," he said. Their eyes met. "Maybe you should take it."
He rolled away and she flipped the phone open. "Jax. It's early. Is everything okay?"
"Where the fuck is Juice?" he demanded immediately.
"Good morning, Jackson." She raised an eyebrow at Juice and he nodded. "He's right here. I think he forgot to plug his phone in last night."
"Let me talk to him," he said, roughly.
She passed the phone over with a deep frown. He hesitated a moment before he raised it to his ear. "Hey, Jax. Sorry, Liv's right—"
"Doesn't matter. Listen, Tara—" His voice broke and he had to pause to collect himself. "Tara took off last night. She took the boys. Gemma thinks she's gonna make a deal."
"What? Holy shit, you don't—"
"I think if she were gonna do it it would've been done already and we'd all be on our way to County. But I gotta find her."
Juice reached for Olivia's hand. Their fingers tangled together and he squeezed hard. "What, uh. What're you gonna do?"
"I don't know yet. Just get to the shop, Juicy. I'm callin' full table."
Juice cleared his throat. "You need me to go get Bobby?"
"Nah. Chibs and Tig are on their way with him now." He paused. "Juice, if Olivia knows where Tara is—"
"She doesn't, Jax."
"If she does," he said like Juice hadn't spoken, "tell her she can tell me. I'm not gonna hurt her or Tara. You've both got my word."
Olivia raised a brow. She knew what Jackson Teller's word could be worth, and she wasn't buying it.
"She doesn't know, Jax. Look, I'll see you at the shop."
"Yeah, Juicy," he said, wearily. "See you then."
Juice flipped the phone closed and handed it to her. "Well," she said.
"This doesn't change anything, babe. We can still leave if you want to."
She squeezed the phone and shook her head. "I need to know what's happening with Tara. If she's okay. I can't let Jax kill her."
"I don't think—"
"He might," she said. She kissed him hard and fast. "I'm gonna run home for a change of clothes, and then I'll try to get in touch with her. Meantime, please be careful. I love you."
"I love you too," he said. "If I can protect Tara I will."
She paused. "You gave her Collette's address."
His mouth opened. He shut it again. His eyes slid away. "That wasn't my best move."
"You knew she and Jax were fucking?"
"Strongly suspected."
Olivia was quiet. "Tara is the closet thing I've ever had to a sister, Juice. I think you, of all people, can appreciate what that means."
"Yeah, Liv." He met her gaze with a strong, steady look of his own. "I'll do what I can."
"I know you will," she said. "I trust you."
That could be bad. We'll just have to see.
I would looooove some reviews going into the end of season 6 here, because it's pretty harrowing all around. Your encouragement means so much. :)