Page 95 of Show Off

“I screwed up,” she whispers. “Not just today. Lana, if I could go back?—”

“It’s okay.” It’s not, but I’m good at pretending. “Itwillbe okay.”

It may not, but I keep moving forward because it’s what I do. I’m a goddamn Judson, bloodline or not.

Composing myself, I turn back to face Jamila. “Is there anything else?”

The hostess looks deep in my eyes. Whatever she sees makes her give a sharp nod. Dropping her cue cards, Jamila turns back to the cameras. “You know, sometimes we feel like we have the right to know every last detail of a celebrity’s life. They’re fair game, right?”

A few heads nod, but some in the crowd start shaking their heads.

“No,” someone calls. “Maybe it’s none of our business.”

“Amen.” Jamila looks back at Mom. “I hope your book does well. I really do.”

“Thank you.”

As the audience claps, I unclip my mic and stand when the camera pans away. Jamila steps back to speak with her producer. I turn to go, but Mom grabs my hand. “What are you going to do?”

There’s worry in her voice, but not the self-serving kind. It’s motherly love, the flawed and sometimes ugly sort. Shirleen Judson isn’t perfect. Far from it.

But she’s still my mother.

“I love you,” I tell her, squeezing her hand once before releasing it. “And I forgive you. But I need to not talk with you for a little while.”

I don’t wait for a response. I walk straight out the door and into the sunlight, half expecting a swarm of TV crews and reporters.

But we’re at Juniper Ridge, so there’s no paparazzi. Just bright blue skies and a sparrow that swoops to the branch I duck under on my way to the path. In the pond up ahead, someone’s kayaking.

As I draw a deep breath, I do a body scan. My limbs are intact, the same arms and legs I had an hour ago. My stomach’s still there, growling a reminder that I missed lunch. My heart… Well, that’s another story.

I keep walking because, honestly? Putting one foot in front of the other feels like all I can do right now. I make it six steps when Patti and Colleen burst from the café with a bakery bag. They’re moving fast, barreling at me like gray-haired tornadoes of motherly love.

“Here.” Patti thrusts the bag at me, and I take it. “Cinnamon knots. I made them with extra cardamom the way you like them.”

“We’re so proud of you, hon.” Colleen pulls me in a hug so tight and so warm that I forget my own name. “We love you like our own kid, you know that?”

“I do.” I sniff as she lets go, clutching the bag to my chest. “I love you guys.”

“Call if you need us.” Colleen takes Patti’s hand, and they step back. “And if anyone fucks with you on your way home?—”

“I’ve got it handled.” I pull a cinnamon knot from the bag and take a bite. It’s spicy and warm and tastes like love. “Thank you for this.”

I turn toward my cabin, feeling the love of my found family. Not just Patti and Colleen, but everyone at Juniper Ridge. A few people nod as I stride down the path, but no one takes pictures. No one pauses to grill me or gives me a look like they know some big secret.

We’re all just people here.

When I reach my humble little cabin, I shut the door behind me and walk to the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face, then swipe wet mascara rings out from under my eyes. I look haggard and hollow, but somehow still strong.

Goddammit, I’m a Judson. No matter what my DNA says.

A knock at the front door doesn’t surprise me. I pad to the front of the house as my heart thrums steadily in my chest. I knew Dal wouldn’t go quietly.

“Lana?” It’s Lauren’s voice, not Dal’s, but I’m not disappointed.

Just a little dead inside.

“Open up, Lan.” That’s Mari this time, her voice tight with concern. “We need to see you.”

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