Broken: A Billionaire Love Story Read Online Free PDF Page A

meeting was physical activity.
    Physical activity could be a number of things, Rawls told him—there was a small gym with treadmills and elliptical machine; outside there was a small basketball court where six men and women were playing a pick-up game; adjacent to that, there were walking paths around the fenced garden area.
    Shane, mind still all syrup and scrambles, sat down in the garden area, ignoring or waving off all attempts at communication. People seemed to get it. They seemed to know exactly where he was and how he got there. Everyone acted like they understood. He knew they couldn't understand—how could anyone understand?—but he was glad they didn't bother him.
    Dazed. That was the only word for his entire life at that moment. He felt like he had been through some horrible trauma, only he didn’t remember any of it. His head not entirely screwed on right. He barely remembered arriving at the facility, and felt no tug to get away or to join, just to allow his mind to return to itself. Where had he been? What had he done?
    Had someone been hurt? Had it been like...like the crash? The fire?
    God. He hoped not.
    Focusing, his head between his arms as he sat, he tried to recall.
    Okay. Today he woke up, still in a stupor. Lots of something running through his system—probably medication to help with the detoxing process his body was going through. Benzos, maybe. This sort of felt like a benzo high. Rawls was there in the dorm room, smiling and knowing—seen it all before. He'd been around the block so many times that he'd started to make a moat from his trail.
    But how had Shane gotten in the small dormitory bed?
    Uncle Arthur.
    Shane latched onto the notion because it made sense—Arthur always was there to bail him out before when he got into too much trouble—and now that Shane entertained the train of thought, he began to recall his face. Arthur’s face and voice in odd, disjointed snippets. His hands on Shane’s body here and there. Pulling him through wetness, darkness.
    Shane remembered...a hospital. Being strapped to an IV. Terrified, scraggly voices calling out in the night, asking for nurses. Lots of beeping. Endless beeping. Okay. The memory of those beeps now was so present that Shane was a bit terrified he had forgotten them at all. He felt like they had been droning for days. Maybe they had been?
    He couldn't know.
    Before that...before that...there had been a bar? There had probably been a lot of bars. There was...violence? Had he hurt someone? Someone certainly seemed to have hurt him. That, or he had been in a car crash.
    But, no.
    No. He knew he hadn’t been driving anywhere. That was the one mistake he would never, ever make again, no matter how drunk or high he became.
    A voice on the overhead speaker announced that physical activity was over. Shane stood up and looked for Rawls. He found him walking out of the gym, a thin line of sweat on his shirt.
    “We got some time to shower,” he said. “I’ll meet you over there, after.”
    He pointed to the Rec Room—where a number of folks had already started reorganizing chairs for smaller meetings. But, as Shane drifted inside, looking for a place to stand out of the way and remain unnoticed, an orderly cornered him.
    “Hey there,” said the man. He was middle-aged, olive-colored skin, with a narrow black widow’s peak. “My name’s Hector. You remember me?”
    Shane shook his head. “Should I?”
    “I carried you around one or two times the past few days,” said Hector. “Don’t worry about it. Listen, Dr. Strauss wants to talk to you, all right?”
    “I thought I had...this.” Shane waved his hand at the meetings. “Whatever this is.”
    “Oh, you’ll get to that. But Dr. Strauss wants a little one-on-one time first, okay? Pretty routine.”
    Everything was routine here, Shane was finding out. Hector led him through the facility and soon Shane was sitting in the office of Dr. Strauss. He was a short man with close-cut blond