Chuck versus The Last Wish

Chapter 19 – You

A/N Fair warning: Morgan is not around again to keep them apart.

The gray sedan cruised onto Interstate 5 as Burbank disappeared behind them, morning traffic giving way to long stretches of open asphalt.

Chuck kept one hand on the wheel while turning the radio dial with the other.

“…three UN relief ships failed to arrive in East Africa…”

A sugary pop song followed.

“Even Morgan wouldn’t listen to this.”

Sarah glanced sideways at him. “Is Morgan’s taste really that bad?”

“Morgan believes the eighties never ended—they just took a break.”

Sarah laughed. “That… sounds believable.”

Chuck finally found a station. “There we go. This one’s actually pretty good.”

Warm guitar filled the car while the urban sprawl gradually gave way to dry California hills.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

“What were you like… before?” Sarah asked.

Chuck glanced at her. “Before?”

“Before I came into your life.”

Chuck smiled. “A lot more geeking out. A lot less getting shot at.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously. I worked at the Buy More, Morgan was my best friend, and Ellie was constantly worried about my future. That was pretty much my entire universe.”

Sarah watched his profile. “Were you happy?”

Chuck didn't answer immediately. “I thought I was.”

Sarah nodded. “And now?”

“Now it's a lot more complicated.”

“But?”

He glanced at her again, his smile softening. “I wouldn't trade it… for anything.”

Sarah turned her attention back to the window, a genuine smile touching her lips.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Two hours later, they pulled into a dusty gas station on the edge of the Mojave.

Chuck came out of the mini-mart carrying two paper cups. “Coffee. Probably made from motor oil, but supposedly it’ll keep us awake.”

Sarah took hers with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Across the lot, an elderly couple was struggling to fold a paper map. Chuck strolled over with an easy smile. A few quiet sentences, a warm laugh, and he pointed them in the right direction. The older man gratefully shook his hand.

Sarah watched from beside the car. Nothing remarkable had happened. When he returned, Sarah was still looking at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s the second ‘nothing’ in twenty-four hours. Careful, Sarah. I’m keeping count.”

The faint smile on Sarah’s lips grew. “I’m just… starting to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why do people like you.”

Chuck flushed, letting out an awkward laugh before opening the passenger door for her.

Back on the road, Sarah didn't press herself against the passenger door anymore, sliding a little closer to the center console. And when Chuck launched into another story about one of Morgan's legendary bad ideas, Sarah didn't just listen —she laughed, completely and freely.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The asphalt road gradually gave way to gravel as the car rounded a final bend between the pines, and Chuck slowed to a stop.

“We’re here.”

Sarah looked through the windshield. The cabin was exactly as Chuck had described it—not a grand lodge or modern mountain retreat, but a simple, rustic hideaway. Dark, weathered boards covered the exterior, with slender posts supporting a wide front porch. An old kerosene lantern hung beneath the eaves beside a faded wind chime. Two rocking chairs faced each other on the porch, the armrest of one worn smooth by years of use.

Propane tanks stood beside the entrance, and a neatly stacked pile of firewood lined the wall near a stone fire pit. Behind the cabin, tall pines reached toward the sky, filling the cool air with the scent of pine resin and sun-warmed timber.

Chuck switched off the engine, and quiet settled over the clearing —punctuated only by rustling branches and a distant woodpecker.

Sarah let out a slow breath. “Cozy.”

Chuck smiled.

Sarah scanned the clearing. “There used to be a car here…”

Chuck followed her gaze to the empty patch of hard-packed earth where the old green Bronco used to sit.

“Ellie sold it after the estate was settled,” Chuck said quietly. “There wasn't much point in letting it rust up here.”

Sarah gently touched his hand. She didn't remember Chuck's father, but she didn't need to—she understood what being back here cost him.

Chuck grabbed their bags from the trunk. “Come on.”

Sarah followed him toward the porch. As she stepped onto the first wooden board, it gave a soft creak.

Chuck glanced back. “Nothing's changed.”

Sarah looked around, a faint smile on her lips. “Maybe one thing.”

“What?”

“Now I'm here, too.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

The yellow glow of the fireplace cast warm shadows across the cabin walls. The fire crackled softly, sending an occasional spark drifting up the chimney.

The room was lit only by amber flames. They hadn't turned on the lamps. Sarah didn't mind the darkness. The fire gave the room enough light. Dinner had been simple. The plates were sitting in the sink when Chuck dug a bottle of red wine out of the pantry. He poured two glasses and held one out to Sarah.

“I still have no idea how old this is,” he said with a smile. “But neither of us has collapsed yet, so…”

Sarah took a sip, considering it before nodding. “Then it can stay.”

Chuck laughed and sat down beside her on the old leather couch. Sarah set her glass on the small table. She licked her lips, grabbed the front of Chuck's t-shirt, and gently pulled him closer.

“Sarah, I…”

She leaned in and kissed him without a word.

Chuck enjoyed the surprise for a brief moment before kissing her back, his right hand moving along the back of her neck to brush her cheekbone.

Sarah climbed into his lap in one smooth movement and kissed him again, with considerably more passion. Sarah kissed his neck, whispering into his ear: “You don't have to tell me stories tonight…”

In the quiet, the air felt heavy around them. The images in her mind were still incomplete. But when she pressed against him, she didn't hesitate. She didn't need analysis—she needed to trust the certainty Chuck awakened in her.

“I don't want to think about anything right now,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. Seconds later her fingertips moved across his face, recalling a gesture preserved not by memory, but by her skin.

Chuck's expression shifted. In his chest, a different kind of burn took hold. Months of walking on glass, of holding his breath every time his shoulder brushed hers in the kitchen—it all collapsed the second her fingers knotted into his shirt. God, don't break her. The thought was an old, suffocating companion. Every time her eyes went blank over a forgotten memory, his heart fractured a little more. Taking this—taking her—felt dangerously close to stealing from a woman who couldn't remember what she had to give.

Sarah felt that familiar, agonizing hesitation in the slight tremor of his hands. Her mind was still a frustrating landscape of fog and burned-out bridges, but pressed against his chest, her compass stopped spinning. She didn't need a timeline to recognize her anchor. She didn't remember learning the shape of his shoulders, but her hands seemed to know it anyway. The rhythm of his heartbeat felt familiar beneath her cheek. So did the scent of cedar and rain on his skin.

“Don't wait anymore, and don't try to be careful,” Sarah said, her voice rough with desire and a hint of authority. “My head may be a mess, but my body isn't lying to me. I want you, Chuck. Now.”

When his hand slipped beneath her shirt, his palm lingered against her spine—not just as a lover reaching out, but as a drowning man gripping the shore.

She caught the hem of his shirt, and Chuck obediently raised his arms to let her strip it away. His left hand unclasped her bra and freed her from the shirt too.

Sarah shifted back, kneeling on the couch before standing. She quickly undid her pants, pushing them down with her underwear and leaving herself naked in the fireplace glow.

Chuck's breath caught.

Sarah leaned over him, her fingers moving quickly to his belt. Chuck lifted his hips to help pull them lower, his hand trembling as it rested against her bare knee.

God, he'd been so patient, Sarah realized. Without demanding a single thing, he had accepted her invisible walls, putting aside his own pain, loneliness, and physical desires.

Would I have been able to do that? she wondered. Would I have had the strength to wait for him like this?

Sarah took Chuck's wrist, guiding his warm hand to her hip, and slowly moved over him.

A breathless rush passed through both of them. Sarah began to move slowly, giving herself over to a raw, uninhibited hunger without taking her eyes off him.

A muffled groan escaped Chuck's throat as his head fell back against the cushion. His hands closed firmly around her hips, matching her rhythm.

As the firelight glimmered across their skin, Sarah felt the last remaining barrier disappear. She didn't need her memories to lose herself completely in him.

Their movements grew urgent. Sarah hadn't expected the sudden, dizzying release that swept through her. When the tension broke, she buried her face against Chuck's neck with a muffled cry, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Chuck pressed his hips against hers one final time before his body relaxed.

For several minutes, the only sounds were their breathing and the crackling fire. Sarah rested her head against his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat.

Chuck didn't rush her; he simply held her, his fingers tracing slow circles across her back.

He's still taking care of me.

Chuck finally spoke, his voice husky. “The couch is kinda small… and there's a bed in the bedroom.”

Sarah looked up, their eyes meeting. Chuck gently slipped out from beneath her and pulled the soft blanket over her shoulders. He pulled his jeans back on with the familiar, natural calm she knew so well.

He lifted her, blanket and all, into his arms and carried her across the room.

In the bedroom, faint shadows spilled through the open doorway. Chuck lowered her onto the mattress and later climbed beneath the covers beside her.

Here, a different kind of silence settled over them. Sarah no longer wanted to control what happened or test boundaries. She lay against the pillow, letting Chuck's palm move gently across her face and neck to settle at her waist.

His touch had changed. Slower now. Careful again, but not hesitant. Sarah opened her eyes and watched him for a moment. She couldn't remember the yesterday he seemed to carry with him. But she could feel how much it mattered to him. Sarah closed her eyes and let go. She still couldn't see their shared past, but as he leaned over her, she was no longer chasing lost memories. She gave herself completely to the present, and to the absolute trust her body recognized without hesitation.

They made love for hours. Just couldn’t stop.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The ringing phone woke them the next morning.

With her hair tousled from sleep, Sarah reached for Chuck’s pants on the floor. Without leaving the warmth of the bed, she fished it out.

Chuck was still half curled against her as Sarah held the blanket around herself with one hand and tapped the flashing screen. “It’s Morgan.”

“What does he want?” Chuck asked sleepily.

Sarah answered, her voice heavy with sleep. “Hey, Morgan…”

Morgan’s voice was unusually serious. “Is Chuck there? We’ve got a problem.”

Sarah looked at Chuck. “What happened?”

“Diane Moore is dead.”

The news snapped them fully awake.