Free Resurrected (Resurrected Series Book 1) by S. M. Schmitz Page B

me smile again. I would tell her anything to keep hearing that laugh. “I cuss a lot more in my head. Lydia doesn’t like it so I try to watch my language out loud.”
    “Well, that settles that then. Jamie was definitely not bothered by cursing. That woman could make me blush.”
    “What else is different?” she asked, turning thoughtful, looking away from me now at some spot on the wall, like a memory – one of her memories – was playing out there and she was able to see it all again through these different eyes.
    “I haven’t spent that much time around you. I don’t know. What was your name? Before?”
    That smirk returned. I couldn’t help it. It had been over two years and I couldn’t stop myself from wishing it would turn into one of Lottie’s you’re-about-to-get-laid hybrid smiles. I wondered what Eric would have to say about that. I wondered what a psychiatrist would have to say about that.
    “We don’t exactly speak, English, Dietrich.”
    “That’s ok. I didn’t either until I was, like, eleven.”
    Her smile widened. “I’m not even sure how to … translate it.”
    “I’ve learned Arabic, Mandarin and Russian. How hard can one name be?” I didn’t even know if her language was spoken. “Look, just make something up if you want. So I can differentiate between you. For my own sanity.”
    Lottie sighed but nodded. “Ok. I guess … it would be something kinda like … Kyrieana.”
    I arched an eyebrow at her. “Really? That’s beautiful.”
    “What did you expect? An ugly name?” She was teasing but she had a point. I guess I had been expecting something more Klingonish. “But I’m not really her anymore either,” Lottie added.
    “Then what was Kyrieana like?”
    Lottie opened her mouth to answer me, but we had both heard the sound of footsteps outside. “Shit,” she muttered. She stood up quickly, too quickly, and had to grab on to the arm of the chair from the sudden head rush. Lydia’s key was already in the door by the time she turned to me, worry written all over her face. I stood up, more slowly than she had, and was going to offer to leave before Lydia could ask many questions … but I wanted to stay. I desperately wanted to meet her, actually.
    Jamie walked in – or Lydia – God, this was all such a mind-fuck and Lottie quickly introduced me. Sort of. “Hey, how was the rest of your shift?” She rushed on and didn’t even let her roommate answer. “This is my friend, he was just visiting, and I lost track of time. Sorry. I don’t have any pasta made yet. You must be starving.”
    “Oh, that’s ok,” Lydia gave Lottie a hug with her free arm and set her purse on the sofa with the other, then reached out to shake my hand. Her smile was warm, genuinely affectionate and spread to her eyes – the kind of smile that let you know you were talking to someone who was inherently good. A flash of confusion crossed across her features but she blinked and simply offered, “It’s nice to meet you.”
    “Likewise.” I shook her hand, and realized for the first time what Lottie had been trying to tell me. Lydia was nothing like Jamie. She looked just like her, the same tall, beautiful blonde who had worked runways in Houston fashion shows, but she had none of Jamie’s overconfidence, none of her self-righteous superiority. I doubted Lydia realized she had been a model in her former life and could still be one. I sincerely doubted she would want to. I had the impression she was more at home in an aisle of the bookstore than the runway of even a J C Penney’s.
    “Have we met before?” she asked, that befuddled semi-recognition still lurking behind her eyes. She looked tired, but was still smiling, still trying to be hospitable and friendly, not because she had to, but because it was just how she was. No wonder Lottie often felt like she was on the verge of hurting or offending her.
    As desperately as I loved Lottie, there was a reason we had always felt pulled to one