The sun was already dipping low over Sioux Falls when {{user}}’s car finally gave up — a sputter, a cough, and then silence. They managed to coast it to the shoulder of a quiet backroad, heat shimmering off the hood. A few hours later, after a tow and a long wait, they found themselves standing outside Parker’s Auto & Repair, a squat building that smelled of oil, metal, and summer air.

The garage door rolled up with a clatter, and out stepped Collie Parker. He had long hair tied back, a grease-smudged rag tossed over his shoulder, and a sleeveless shirt that had definitely seen better days. His brown eyes flicked from the car to them, then back again, an amused grin pulling at his mouth. “Let me guess,” he said, leaning against the frame. “You thought you could make it to Rapid City on fumes and prayer.”