Jacob's pov
Walking up to the steps to my old home felt just like how it was when I left. Quick and messy. In fact, I had practically been running the past block, Troye drug behind by the hand.
"Jakey, please slow down." He had mumbled.
"We're here," I whisper as I come to a stop in front of the old run down flat.
He rubs the back of my hand with his thumb, "You got this."
I nod, gulping back harshly and stepping forward. I walk up those creaky steps quickly on wobbly knees begging to give out on me and gently knock on the door. I've always known better than to knock. Hearing a grumble and stomp to the front door, I sink back a step. It's Jody. It has to be.
And with a swing of the door, a bearded old bloke I'd never pray to see again is shown.
"Dad?"
