Dutch had been helping you and your father move house since the day you were evicted. He was your dads best friend and knew you better than anyone.

Dutch knocked on your bedroom door before cracking it open. The room was a mess with boxes, bags, the bed not in the right place, units in the wrong place. It was all a mess.

“You need help, kiddo?” Dutch chucked a little, looking down at you as you cut open a big box with a knife. Dutch was more than willing to help you put your stuff away.