Page 1 of Secondhand Garagyre

Prologue

PAISLEY

Themonth ofJune.

I’mnumb.

That’sthe only wordIhave to describe how it feels to watch your twin’s casket lower into the ground in front of you.

It’sa rather nice casket…if one cares about things like that.

Idon’t.

Iwant my brother back.

Myeyes drift over to my parents.

Theirfaces are grief stricken with arms wrapped around one another, desperately clinging together, as if they were terrified to let go, lest they lose what little composure they have left.Aparent isn’t supposed to bury their child.Itgoes against the natural order of things.

Afterlearning ofPatrick’sdeath, both of my parents have unraveled, not thatIblame them.Theother half of my soul is missing, soI, more than most, understand their pain.

I’mexhausted.Afterthe wreck, being hospitalized for several minor injuries, learning of my brother’s death, then taking charge in making all thearrangementsso my parents didn’t have to…Idon’t have anything left to give to anyone.Thatincludes the ornate casket my brother is ensconced within, slowly fading from sight with every shower of soil the backhoe pushes into the once-vacant hole deep within the silent embrace of the earth.

Movementaround me signals the departure of the majority ofPatrick’sfuneral attendees.Mybrother is a well-liked member of the community, so the church we have his funeral services at is so full, it is standing room only.Mosteveryone has followed along in the funeral procession to the graveside services as well, but that’s done, and they’re all leaving.Iguess none of them could stomach watchingPatrick’sgrave being filled with dirt.

Don’tthey know operators are paid by the hour?

Iscoff to myself as my eyes dart around the dispersing crowd.

Cowards.

They’reall going back to their regularly scheduled programming, as they aren’t the ones who have a loved one ripped from their lives.Patrickis but a blip on the radar screen of their lives.Myself, my parents, a few ofPatrick’sclose friends, andIare the only ones who will truly feel the absence of his loss.

Aflash of gold out of the corner of my eye causes my body to tense, andIsneer at the stereotypical frat boy who has stared me down the entire time we’ve been at the cemetery.Hecuts a tall, handsome figure as he makes his approach.Theexpression “beauty is only skin deep,” strikes true with this person.

“Paisley, you look well.Mydeepest condolences for your loss.”

Shockholds me immobile for a few seconds, as the smooth baritone relaying the words slides over me.Thesheer audacity that this man attendedPatrick’sfuneral is galling.Letalone having the nerve to approachandspeak to me.

Howdare he?!

Myparents are standingright there!

“Ihave absolutely nothing to say to you.Leave.Now,”Ibite out.Mywords are harsh and broken.

Piercingscrystal-blue eyes narrow slightly before his face softens in a facsimile of what compassion is supposed to look like. “Haveyou given any thought to my proposal?” he asks, voice deceptively kind.Oh… so very false, butIknow better.

Yearsbefore,Ireceived a warning about this danger.

Indignationfilled me as his words registered in my beleaguered mind. “Howdare you?Howdare you speak to me at all, let alone ask me ifI’vegiven any thought to your proposal!”Isneer before continuing, “Allowme to be perfectly clear.Iwill never marry you.Ever.Thatis my final answer, soIsuggest you make your departure along with all our otherwell-wishers.”

“Ah,Ican see that you need time.That’sentirely understandable, considering the circumstances,” he states loftily before nodding his acknowledgement at my parents.Ashe turns to leave, he calls out over his shoulder, not even bothering to break stride as he walks away.

“Isuggest you reconsider my proposal; it would be unwise not to.”

Softhands abruptly grab hold of one of mine, pulling me around to meet the worried, tear-streaked face of my mother.

“Honey, what is all that about?” she tentatively asks, golden-brown eyes flecked with green and blue flecks, the same eyesIsee in the mirror, reflecting concern as she looks from me to the figure moving towards his fancy car, before looking up at my father to gauge his response.

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