Page 4 of Secondhand Garagyre

Thatis preposterous!

HowcanImiss a mere mortal and a soggy, annoying one at that?

Icringe slightly at my last uncharitable thought.

Griefhas no timeline.

Timedoes not heal all wounds; it merely gives the body the ability to adapt to the loss with the passage of time.Iknow mytears are etched into my stone body, a stamp for all to see.Itdoes not shame me to be seen thus, soIwill not shame the little human for her tears.

TheirritationIhave felt for her initially has faded as the days turned into weeks, then months.Ihave learned all about the female, not thatIreally have had a choice.I’ma captive audience, so to speak.

Mysole frustration is thatIstill do not know her name.Shehas no need to introduce herself to her brother and has no clue thatIam something other than a statue mounted next to his grave.Thefemale is never accompanied by anyone else either.Thus, her name remains a mystery.

Whereis she?!

Thesun has yet to fully set, soIam bound to my stone form whetherIlike it or not.Ithas been far too many years sinceIfed.Ido not dare risk any of the sun’s rays touching my skin.Itwould essentially incinerate me on the spot.Iam not stupid even if my mate told me so in a backhanded way many times.

Yes,IknowIam pretty, but when she told me so in that tone, she was really calling me an imbecile.Thegods spared me whenIlayahanwas murdered for a reason, andIam beginning to think this little human is the reason.Thereis no other explanation for why she, and she alone, awoke me when no one else has.

Notmy family, nor my friends could reach me.Ihave slept deeply, so deepIthoughtIwould never wake again.

DidIhope to never wake again?

Yes…Ihave prayed to any gods listening to take this pain from me.

Because… what is life with half a soul?

Sighing,Istrain my ears again.Listeningfor any slight movement that might signal the little human’s arrival.Moreoften than not, she lingers until the setting of the sun, allowing me to rescind mystoneslumberfrom my eyes and observe her from beneath my lashes.

Lately, my mind has debated back and forth on what it would be like to reveal myself to the pretty little human.

Yes,Ihave noticed her uncommonly pretty appearance for her species, and over time, my initial disgust at her lack of additional appendages has slowly faded.Iam hardheaded but not completely stupid, no matter how my mate told me there is evidence to the contrary.

Myinternal clock, the one everyGaragyrepossesses, tells me the sun is beginning to sink from the sky, and she still have yet to arrive.Thefirst inkling of unease slithers through me.Shehasn’tevermissed a visit with her brother…

Whereis she?!

Chapter Five

PAISLEY

Oneweek later.

Iheave a sigh, delighted when my lungs expand to their fullest extent on a deep breath.Thelack of any overt pain streaking through my ribcage tells meI’mgetting better.Afterthe weekIhave had, the lack of discomfort is a blessing.Igingerly roll over in bed, my contused body sinking into the memory foam topper on my pillowtop mattress.

It’slike sleeping on a cloud but with lumbar support, andI’venever been more thankful for splurging on it thanI’vebeen during the last week.Turquoise-blue walls surround me, soothing me with the cool tones they reflect while a dark-oak bedroom suite complements them and pulls the room together.

Merryfluffin’Christmasto me…a groan escapes my throat asIforce myself to get out of bed, flipping my dark-purple duvet cover back asIswing my legs over the side of the bed only to smile at the image of a fierce purple dragon looking back at me from the curtains hanging in the window beside my bed.

Thecurtains were a special order, but something thatIdidn’t mind spending my money on.Purpleand turquoise are my favorite colors, and dragons are my favorite animals, so being able to have a massive, intimidating dragon watching over me whileIslumber is outstanding.

Sleepingbeneath its watchful gaze each night gives me a sense of comfort, even thoughI’mnot sure why.It’sjust an image.Dragons, if they ever existed, are nowhere to be found today.

Thejingle jangle of tags announces the waking ofMerryandPippin, my twoPembrokecorgis.Bothof them sleep in the bed with me and are the only bed partnersI’vehad for many years.Theircomfort is worth the pain in the ass of keeping up with all the dog hair.

“Well, good morning, sleepy heads.Arey’all ready for some supper?Giveme just a second, andMommywill let you outside to go potty,”Icoo.

Aquick glance at the clock on my nightstand shows three thirty p.m.I’mdetermined to make it to the cemetery today.I’vebarely been able to get out of bed the last seven days, let alone go to the cemetery for my scheduled visits withPatrick.Notbeing able to go and visit the last resting place of my twin has been weighing heavily on me.Iknow he isn’t there, but some part of me feels closer to him at that peaceful sight than anywhere else.

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