The look in Chuck's eyes had been one of fight or flight, and Sarah somehow hadn't been surprised when Chuck ran. She'd wanted to run after him, but the wall of paparazzi stopped her. While she tried to answer, and yet not answer, the questions put to her, the only thing Sarah could think of was the look on Chuck's face. The pain there seemed to be permanently fixed behind her eyelids.

Had it been the surprise or the information that made Chuck run from her? Sarah couldn't be sure. She did know that the idea of never seeing Chuck again made her want to collapse onto the bed and cry until she couldn't cry anymore, but he didn't have that option at the moment. The paparazzi were swarming her like a disturbed hornet's nest.

"Was this whole dramatic disappearing act just a publicity stunt to distract from the fact that you haven't put out an album in years?" said a reporter with black glasses and a brown pants suit while he held up a microphone in her face.

"No!" Sarah declared, but no one seemed to take any notice.

"Why did you choose Tofino of all places to hide out?" another reporter added.

"I wasn't hiding," Sarah answered. "I was on vacation, which you very rudely interrupted, I might add." The reporter in no way looked remorseful.

"Is your need for a boy toy because of your heartbreak over Bryce?" another reporter said.

"The only thing heartbreaking about Bryce is his IQ," Sarah replied, grinning.

"Your fans want an explanation about what happened back in Toronto with Bryce?" asked a small but determined looking woman with her phone out with the microphone app open and recording.

"We aren't together," Sarah explained. "It really isn't that complicated."

"They all want to know why?" the same woman with the app followed up.

"Basically, he's a jerk," Sarah answered.

"Okay fine, but who was the kid that just ran through here? Surely, he's a little young for you," another reporter asked. This time it was a man with a yellow shirt and jeans. She wondered if he'd shown up on his day off to interrogate her.

"That's none of your business," Sarah replied coolly. She would not talk about Chuck. Sarah was happy to bash Bryce, since he wouldn't notice anyway, but Chuck deserved better.

"He told me his name is Chuck," stated a woman in a smart business suit that was torn in three places. There was blood in the ripped fabric at her knees and elbows.

"When were you talking to him?" Sarah asked, alarmed. Had this reporter gotten into a fight with Chuck? Of course, none of these hypocrites answered her questions, and yet they continued to demand she answer theirs.

"Is it true you got a job at his parents surf shop, and that's how you met him?" asked a woman with a boom mic over her head and a camera man behind her.

"No, why would I need to work in retail?" Sarah replied, totally confused by the question. Where did these people get their crazy ideas from anyway?

"Camera phone pictures are surfacing of you sitting behind the counter in the shop," the woman with the boom mic continued, for once actually answering her.

"Yes, I stood behind the counter, but I wasn't working there," Sarah said with a sigh.

"Care to comment on the nature of your relationship with the rebound guy, this Chuck?" requested the balding reporter in suspenders who had glasses sliding down his nose.

"He is not a rebound," Sarah snapped. "Bryce wasn't worth a rebound."

"That's quite enough," Beckman's loud booming voice called over the reporter's incessant questions. "That's quite enough, now let us pass."

With great effort and some shoving, they were finally able to get past the wall of hypocritical fools and out the hotel door. There were still more reporters and press outside, though Sarah was so done answering their silly questions. Pushing past while trying not to listen to the people shoving microphones in her face, they made it to Beckman's car.

She thought she'd left all her things back at the hotel, and decided it wasn't worth going back for, but then she saw Beckmen place her suitcase in the back of the car.

"I packed it while they were all interrogating you," Beckmen said. "I can't promise it's neat, but I threw everything in that I could see."

"Thanks," Sarah said gratefully.

"To the airport, I think," Beckman said.

"Not the airport," Sarah replied.

"Why ever not?" Beckman asked.

"There is someone I have to talk to first," Sarah explained.

"The young man in the towel?" Beckman asked.

"Chuck," Sarah confirmed. "Yes." She leaned forward, holding her head in her hands before continuing. "That was such a horrible way for him to find out. God, I wish I'd told him last night."

"Well, it's a bit late now," Beckman said.

Why hadn't she told him last night? Sarah really had every chance, and yet she hadn't said a thing. Why?

The problem with Chuck was that when she was with him, it was like the rest of the world faded away. She'd thought she had more time and if she was really honest with herself, she'd been scared. Scared that he wouldn't take the news well. Scared of losing him.

Without another word, Beckman drove them to the address she offered. They didn't speak on the short drive to Chuck's parent's house. Once Beckman had the car in park, Sarah felt her hands shaking.

"I've never seen you like this before," Beckman observed.

Her breathing shallow, Sarah got out of the car and walked up to the house and knocked. There was a single flaw in the welcome mat. One spot where the bristles were bent. Desperate for a distraction she focused all her attention on it while she waited to see if Chuck would open the door.

"Sarah," Mary smiled at her as the door opened.

"Is Chuck here?" she asked, disappointed he hadn't been the one to open the door.
"He's in his room, sulking," Mary sighed.

"I can't stay," Sarah explained. "Unless you want a swarm of press at your door. Can I talk to him?"

"He does seem rather antisocial at the moment," Mary said then added with a smile. "Hopefully you can cure him of that." She stepped aside and Sarah sprinted into the house. Quickly moving up the stairs, she reached Chuck's bedroom door and knocked.

"Please talk to me, Chuck," Sarah begged, leaning up against the door.

"I don't want to talk," Chuck said. His voice wasn't mean, but it wasn't happy either. There was a numbness to his tone that scared Sarah.

"Please, talk to me," Sarah repeated. "This doesn't change anything."

"This changes everything," Chuck's voice came through the door. Sarah decided to try opening it, but the knob wouldn't turn.

"Why? Why does it change everything?" Sarah asked. She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill over and run down her cheeks.

"It just does," Chuck's voice replied.

"Please open the door," Sarah begged. "I'm the same person you woke up with this morning, I promise."

"I think your vacation is over," Chuck's voice answered her through the door. His still sounded hollow, like before. She didn't know what to make of it.

"Please open the door, Chuck," Sarah tried again, but it remained shut.

She couldn't hold back the tears anymore. They flowed freely down her face as she pressed herself against his door and slid down it.

The silence that followed seemed to create a void inside her. What was she supposed to do now? Break down the door and scream at him that she loved him? He probably wouldn't even believe her.

And for the first time in her life, Sarah understood why people were scared to love. Giving your heart to someone, gave them the power to hurt you more deeply than anyone else. Even so, Sarah couldn't regret her time with Chuck, or the feelings that grew from that time.

If she could just sit here long enough, he'd have to come out of his room sometimes, but she knew she couldn't sit here forever. Time wouldn't stand still for her, no matter how much she wanted it to. The paparazzi were probably right behind Beckman's car. Sarah had to get up. Had to leave, but she didn't want to move.

The silence was broken by a noise downstairs. Sarah heard voices and thought she recognized Beckman's.

If Beckman had gotten out of the car, there could only be one reason. The press were here.

It was the last thing she wanted to do, but still Sarah did it. She picked herself up off the ground and went back downstairs.

"Oh good. There you are," Beckman said. "Can we please escape to the airport now?"

Sarah didn't speak. She merely nodded.

"When will we see you again?" Mary asked.

"That depends on Chuck," Sarah said. "He doesn't want to see me now, but here-" She moved quickly to where there was a piece of paper and pen on the table. Sarah scribbled down her personal phone number and gave it to Mary. "In case he changes his mind." Mary smiled and took the slip of paper.

"I'll make sure Chuck gets it," Mary replied.

"Thanks," Sarah said. "It's my personal line. No assistant or receptionist answers that one. Just me."

"I'll let him know."

"Thanks," Sarah said. Looking at Chuck's mother, Sarah was suddenly overcome with the desire to hug the older woman. Mary seemed to understand. She raised her arms just a fraction and Sarah took it as an invitation.

Wrapping her arms around Mary, Sarah hugged her and whispered in her ear, "Thank you for everything."

"You are welcome here anytime," Mary told her. "Even if my son sulks upstairs the entire time."

Sarah just nodded. She knew she would never come back until Chuck wanted her. No matter how wonderful Chuck's family was, it just didn't feel right to be around them but separated from Chuck.

With a heavy heart, Sarah left the house. The first thing she saw was the news van.

"Oh god! I've made things worse," Sarah groaned. Now the press knew where Chuck lived. Great. Just wonderful.

All she could do now was make sure they saw her getting into the car and driving off. She hoped they'd follow her and leave poor Chuck alone. It was all she could do.

As they drove to the airport, Sarah gazed through the window. She took note of the beautiful ocean views and lovely little store fronts, wondering if she would ever see them again. Despite this town being so small and rainy, Sarah had grown to like it here.

Sarah barely listened to Beckman telling her where they were headed. She hardly cared. The only place Sarah had truly belonged was at Chuck's side, which was a place that felt completely out of her grasp at the moment.

She couldn't help but hope that she would see Chuck again. She had to hope that when he cooled off, he'd call her. It was the only thing keeping her from breaking down sobbing.

Beckman took the lead through security. Soon they were boarding the plane. After take off, Sarah looked out the window down at the little town that had won her heart.

There were so many things she'd learned, so many new experiences in these last few weeks. Sarah had gone kayaking, watched siblings tease each other, attended the warmest of family dinners, and fallen in love, probably for the first time. There were so many new feelings, so many new words that Chuck had inspired in her.

He was her nerd.

It was like something clicked in her head, like a damn broke, and strings of words and notes poured from her mind. Suddenly scrambling, Sarah found a pen and started writing on the napkins as the overhead address announced refreshments to be served.

Sarah didn't quite remember the flight home, or the drive back to her apartment. She was in her head, writing, composing. The moment she walked in her front door, Sarah locked herself in her recording studio. It was like the words had a mind of their own, like they demanded to be composed into a whole.

The only thing that could break her focus now was her personal cell phone. It was there always, nearby with the ringer on full volume.

The time of day became meaningless as Sarah worked. She stayed up late into the night, only crashing when her mind was too tired to work anymore. She lost track of how much money she spent on food delivery, as she worked endlessly.

Days turned to weeks. Beckman came by to bring her a home-cooked meal occasionally. There was always a pencil behind her ear, and her hair lived up in a messy ponytail. Weeks became months as Sarah lived and breathed nothing but her music.

Sarah was going to ride her wave of inspiration out until it crashed against the rocks. It was the only way she knew how to process her grief. Writing music about Chuck was the only way she had to keep him close to her heart.

She kept her phone with her, at all times. She kept it by her bed when she slept, hoping she'd wake up to the sound of its call. Even when she was in the shower, it was there in the room. While she worked, she waited for it to ring, but it never did.

Not sure why so many of you were worried I would stop updating. Haven't I previously said this story will get about 20 chapters? Lots left to go! Don't you worry. ^_^

Also thank you to who noticed my timeline was off. Chuck's chapter was meant to be half a day, not a whole day. I went back and edited it so his mother is serving him lunch, not dinner. I think it was lunch in the first editing and I changed it. Not sure why. Oops. But fixed now. It took Sarah the morning to get escape the press and get herself to Chuck's house. Much more reasonable then the entire day.