Hurt Like HELL (new adult contemporary romance) by London Casey

doing?"
    "When can I get out?"
    Auntie B laughed.  "Honey, not today..."
    "I want to go home."
    “Your room is waiting,” she said. 
    I looked at Auntie B, confused for a second.  "No, not your house.  My apartment.  That's where I live."
    "Tessa... if you're not comfortable.  Or worried..."
    "No, I won't live in fear."
    Yeah, right. 
    Auntie B would see through that statement in a second.  But something was driving me at that point.  Something deep inside, calling me, telling me that I needed to get home, to my apartment.  I needed to be there for some reason.  To bring closure to this mess. 
    That's what I needed.  I needed to go home, take a really hot bath, and work.  I would live my life.
    Somehow.

~2~
     
    After hearing the same miracle speech a dozen times, I was finally able to leave the hospital.   I walked out on my own, although my ankle felt tender and my ribs felt like someone had used them for a punching bag.  Auntie B showed me a picture of my car and I felt tears build up in my eyes.  I was going to miss that car.  I purposely bought a used crappy car with cash because that’s what I wanted.  And it was gone. 
    Because I had no car, I relied on Auntie B to take me home from the hospital.  She  said we needed to stop at her house for a few minutes, and I knew what it meant.  It was her attempt to bring me back and subtly find a way to convince me to stay.  I’ll admit, when I saw the large wrap around porch of her country style house, the large windows in the front, the old rocking chairs on the porch moving gently with the calm breeze, the large font yard with a few cherry trees, my heart twisted a little, wanting to stay.  But if I stayed it would be a comfort thing, not a choice.  It would be a way to survive in fear and hide from the world.  That’s not what I wanted for myself. 
    Even when I stepped into the house and smelled fresh baked cookies, I still wanted to be home in my apartment.  I loved the way my apartment smelled... my own fragrance mixed with the odors of my neighbors.  Something fried.  Something burned.  The heavy smell of garlic from the old woman next door who cooked everything in garlic. 
    That was the smell of home.
    The smell here was Auntie B’s house and nothing more.
    “Drink?”
    “Water, please.”
    Auntie B rushed to the kitchen and I followed.  I wasn’t going to let her get me to sit and settle. 
    She handed me a bottle of water and reached for a square wooden container.  She took the lid off and showed me that it was filled to the top with cookies.
    “Have some,” she said, “that hospital food had to have been horrible.”
    “It was,” I said.  I took a cookie and savored it.  She made the best cookies and it was hard to not show how good they were. 
    “Do you have any questions for me?”
    “Questions?  About...?”
    “Everything that happened.  The accident.  Your...”
    “I don’t care,” I said.  “It was my fault, everything.”
    “No, it wasn’t.  You did what you knew to do when afraid.  You would have done the same thing if you lived here.”
    “I wouldn’t have been on that road.”
    “There’s deer everywhere, Tessa.”
    I nodded.  “I’m just glad I’m okay.  Thankfully someone helped me.”
    “I never thought I’d say this... but thankfully you were thrown from the car.”
    My cheeks turned red and I felt guilty.  I knew something Auntie B didn’t know and it was something she would never know, or understand.
    “I’m going to leave in a few minutes,” I said.  “Can you take me home?”
    Auntie B puckered her lips and put her hands on her hips.  I prepared for a long winded speech about what home really meant.  I planned for her to dig up memories, stories, and maybe even throw in a few tears here and there.
    But she didn’t.
    She just shook her head.
    “I can’t,” she said.  “I have to get ready.  I have a date.”
    “A date?”
    She nodded.  “Yeah.  A date.  A