But Laine had been right--neither of those things were really his passion.
And so the question was, had he screwed up so badly he'd be shut out of acting?
And, more important, had he fucked up so royally that he couldn't get her back?
"You want to know the God's honest truth," he told his friend. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get her back or how to get my life on track or how to climb out of this damn hole I've dug."
"Fuck that bullshit," Riley said. "You? The guy who orchestrated his own rescue when he was barely sixteen, not to mention Jenny's, too. And no--" He thrust up a hand, keeping Lyle silent. "Don't you dare tell me that your plan failed because of the accident. That's wasn't anybody's fault. Which is, in fact, why we call it an accident."
"Riley--"
"I'm serious, Lyle. You've been running your career as if you were Jenny and her manager rolled into one. But it's your career, yours. For once push the guilt aside and thank Jenny for introducing you to work that you love."
"Can I talk now?"
"What?" Riley's voice was harsh.
"You're right."
"Goddammit, that's what--oh. Fuck yeah, I'm right."
Lyle pushed himself up off the couch, then pressed the button on the remote to open the blinds, flooding the condo with light.
"You're right," he repeated. "I've survived worse shit than this. My whole childhood's worse than this."
"Hell, yeah. What are you going to do now?"
Lyle held up a finger, then dialed his phone. "Hey," he said when she answered. "I need to see you. I'm on my way right now."
"You're going over to Laine's?" Riley asked.
Lyle shook his head. "I've got a few things I need to take care of first."
"I don't doubt it," Riley said. "But seriously, man. The very first thing you need to do is take a goddamned shower."
28
"Thanks for walking Lancelot with me," I say to Greg as we head from Jacob's apartment to my house.
"Anything you need," he says. "I'd go over to Lyle's condo and smack some sense into him, too. Except I don't actually know where he lives."
We spent the entire day and the early evening working on the flip--the long hours driven by me and my need to keep my mind fully occupied so that there's absolutely no room to think about Lyle. And then later, when Greg dropped me at my house, I saw that Jacob was about to walk Lancelot. Since the idea of a sunset walk seemed like another stellar way to keep my thoughts Lyle-free, I'd offered to take dog duty, and then I roped Greg into coming with me.
"I'm surprised he hasn't called you," Greg says. "I know I wasn't a fan at first, but I do like the guy. And I never doubted that he was crazy about you."
"I never doubted that either," I say. "I don't doubt it now." I pause at my gate. "You want to come in and watch a movie."
"Sure," he says. "Is this because you're dying for company or because you want to keep your mind off Lyle."
"Will you be offended if I say the latter?" I ask as I punch in the gate code and we walk toward the porch.
"Neither offended nor surprised," he assures me.
"You know," I say, picking up the earlier thread of our conversation, "everything was always great between Lyle and me. And I guess that's what makes this especially hard."
"Because it's not something you did that you can apologize for or fix," he says. "I get it."
"All I can do is wait. And try not to obsess. And think about other things." I make a face. "At least all of this drama is keeping my mind off my house. And at least the press has quit hanging around."