Page 117 of Severance

“It’s okay. I’ll try my dad again in a bit. He has a huge audit at his store today. He probably stepped away from the phone.” The frost begins to bite at my face and skin.

“It’s dark out and you’re on the interstate,” Dakota counters, his tone firm. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Obviously, it’s going to be way longer than a second because I’m stranded in the wake of a snowstorm on the opposite side of town, but I do as he instructs—get back inside and lock the doors.

Twenty minutes later, a pair of high beams crawl past me and a truck pulls over a few feet in front of me. The doors swing open and Dakota steps out of the passenger side. Then my eyes move to the driver’s side and I recognize Mikah’s broad frame trudging through the snow. His hands are thrust in his pockets, his coat undone.

Strange delight settles deep in my stomach. I don’t understand the reasoning behind this reaction, but I revel in it, nonetheless. I’ve never been rescued in such a collective chivalrous manner before.

“Someone call for roadside assistance?” Dakota yells, approaching me.

I get out of the Prius and fall into his arms for a brief moment, my peripheral vision catching a glimpse of his brother behind a cluster of snowflakes. Dakota’s disgustingly affectionate in public. He likes to hold my hand, touch my face, and play with my hair, and I love every second of it, especially when we’re out. I love that everyone knows I’m his girl. We might be one of those overly cheesy and a bit mismatched couples you’d find on Pinterest when you typecute stuffin the search bar.

“What happened to your car?” I motion at the truck as we break our hug.

“It’s in the shop until tomorrow,” he explains. “Will you pop your trunk?” He heads behind my car and I push the button on my key fob so that he can get my spare.

“Just say it, DK.” Mikah shakes his head and moves closer. He gives me a nod in place of hello.

“What?” My gaze ping-pongs between the two.

“He doesn’t know how to change a tire. That’s why he brought me,” Mikah says with a solemn face, his hands never leaving his pockets. He’s not wearing a sweater underneath his jacket, just a t-shirt. Narrowing my eyes, I scan part of the design that’s spread across his chest.

The spare falls onto the snow with a low thud and Dakota’s voice drifts at us from behind the car. “Hey, man. It’s all yours.” His head pops above the lid of the trunk and he flashes us a sly grin.

Mikah rounds the Prius and stands next to his brother, looking at the contents of my trunk and then at Dakota. They glance at each other but say nothing.

“You don’t have a jack?” Mikah inquires, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t?” I’m struck by this revelation myself.

“Nope.” His lips twist. “Good thing I have one.”

He walks over to his truck to get the jack while Dakota grabs the lug wrench.

I hold up my phone and point the flashlight at the front tire. The snow twirls and spins above their heads like crazy as they jack up the car.

“Just so you know, this asshole lied.” Dakota motions at Mikah, wrench in his hand. “I know how to change a tire.” He pushes his hair aside and returns to removing the flat.

“I can see that.” My eyes dart to Mikah. The thin line above the bridge of his nose twists in concentration. My fingers are frozen solid around my phone. My cheeks tingle and my lungs sting from the cold air.

“I just like to fuck with him.” Mikah punches his brother’s shoulder.

A smile stretches my lips. I like watching them together. There’s something immaculate about the connection they share. Honest and real. In a way, it saddens me that I have no idea how it feels to have a sibling, to have someone else who’s a part of your mother and father. It must be magical.

When they’re done with the tire, Dakota takes the wrench back to my trunk.

Mikah grabs a handful of fresh snow and slowly rises to his feet. My flashlight lingers on the design on his t-shirt as he crushes the snowflakes between his fingers and they fall slowly onto his boots.

Dakota pats his pockets, his gaze flicking to me. “If you have an emergency and your dad or I don’t pick up, call my brother, okay?” He reaches to grab my phone and quickly punches something in. The next thing I hear is muffled buzzing coming from Mikah’s pocket.

He pulls out his phone and looks at it with his face screwed in confusion.

“DK’s girl. Emergency.” Dakota slaps his back energetically and bends over to grab the jack. “Hold on a second. I believe my phone’s in the truck.” He returns mine to me and walks off, leaving me with his brother.

“Is that Gary Oldman?” I ask, motioning at Mikah’s t-shirt.

“Yeah.Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Classic from 1992.” He draws a pack of Marlboros from his other pocket and lights up a cigarette.

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