Jojo’s P.O.V.
I took a deep breath, reveling in the fresh, clean scent of my body wash as I smoothed down my shirt. The conversation I’d had with my Mom earlier had done wonders on me—like a full emotional detox. For once, I felt like I had my head screwed on right, and I was determined to fix things with Raven.
That’s why I was already halfway to the door, ready to head to his place, when my doorbell rang.
Curious but slightly wary, I swung the door open—and nearly choked on my own tongue. Standing there, all by her five-year-old self, was Lucy. I blinked. Then blinked again.
“Lucy?”
She beamed up at me, all dimples and mischief like usual.
“Hi, Jojo!”
OK. So either I was having a very specific kind of hallucination, or Raven’s daughter had somehow materialized on my doorstep.
