Resurrected (Resurrected Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

kinds of olive oil in our pantry. I knew it would turn rancid, but I didn’t throw it out either. Lottie had just bought a new bottle of extra virgin olive oil. She’d never even opened it.
    Eric had tried to get me to see a therapist, but I refused. I didn’t have good memories of them. Part of me realized there was a huge difference between the things we are forced to do as a child and the things we choose to do as an adult, but I still wouldn’t go. What was the point? I was dead. This was my Hell. I was supposed to be suffering anyway.
    Eric was here now, flipping through the channels, looking for the super regional playoff game. He had brought a six pack of Shiner Bock and had just ordered a pizza. I was in a particularly bad mood today because I’d had one of those dreams last night. Such a simple dream: we were standing in the kitchen as she spread thick layers of cream cheese on toasted bagels. It was morning, we had just gotten up, and she looked so goddamned sexy in her boxer cut shorts and my old LSU t-shirt that I couldn’t help myself: I pushed the bagels away from her and took the table knife out of her hand, and she gave me that look that told me “I know what you’re up to but I’m going to let you get away with it.”
    I put my hand on the small of her back and pulled her close to me, as close as I could, and still, I wanted her closer. Her mouth tasted like coffee, and I don’t know why, but that turned me on even more. Probably because I always associated coffee with Lottie. I lifted her onto the table. This was a memory. I often dreamed of her with memories. I knew what was coming next, I wanted to relive it, I wanted to relive it over and over, but I had awakened, surrounded by that interminable silence.
    I was not in the mood to watch baseball. I wanted to crawl back into bed and hope to dream of Lottie again. To finish that particular dream. But it was 1:00 in the afternoon, and Eric didn’t let me stay in bed all day anymore. So I did the next best thing. I sulked. It didn’t take long for Eric to figure out what I was doing.
    “Dietrich, I’m not leaving just because you’re being an asshole.”
    “I’m not being an asshole.” Of course I was.
    “Of course you are.”
    “Why do you like hanging out with an asshole then?”
    “Because you’re an entertaining asshole. And you have a nice TV.” I didn’t mention his TV was bigger. He wasn’t here for either of those reasons.
    “It should be. You picked it out.”
    Eric smiled. “I have good taste.”
    “Not in friends.”
    “Shut the fuck up.”
    I watched as the LSU batter hit a line drive to right field. A runner on third made it home. I was the LSU fan; Eric was only watching because the game was on. I should have been excited that my alma mater had just tied the game, but thinking of LSU only made me think of Lottie.
    “Let’s go out to her grave,” I said suddenly. I had finally gotten Eric’s attention. He turned the television off.
    “Now? The pizza hasn’t even gotten here yet.”
    “I need to go today.”
    Eric just sighed and pulled up the app on his phone to cancel our order. He never argued with me on this. We stopped at the flower shop on the way to the cemetery so I could buy her fresh flowers; I came out here once a week to replace them. Eric had made me promise not to come more often unless he was with me. We parked along the path closest to her grave and started walking. It was early June, hot and humid already, and we were sweating by the time we reached her. As usual, Eric kissed her headstone, murmured something to her about her fiancé being an asshole today, then walked away to leave us alone.
    The flower arrangement was full of orchids and tuberose. I had been here only a few days ago, so the last arrangement I’d brought her was still in good shape. I picked the wilting petals out of it, brushed the few stray pieces of grass that had stuck to her headstone away. I never talked to her out loud