Free What's Broken Between Us by Alexis Bass Page B

to blame.
    He’s still breathing too heavily to speak.
    “He ran to Starbucks and back,” my dad says. He grabs his thermos out of the cabinet and pats Jonathan on the back as he passes.
    “Why Starbucks?” I squint at Jonathan, so he’ll know I’ve got him figured out. Whenever Jonathan does something new or different, the motivation is typically female, and in this case she comes in the form of a barista with a mouth like a sailor and a smoking habit she uses for flirting, who couldn’t play it cool enough to keep from gushing over my brother’s eyes. He was never one to go for a run before. It’s not only endorphins giving life to his eyes.
    Jonathan shrugs. “It’s the first landmark that came to mind. It’s close, but still far enough for a good workout.” He tips his head back, finishing off the water.
    “Good for you. I think this new hobby is great. Exercise is good for the mind, body, and spirit.” Standard Dad passes us one more time, patting Jonathan on the back again, before he addresses me. “Hey, kiddo, this is pretty early for you, isn’t it?”
    I nod at him. “Yeah, I have a school project.”
    He shouts a variety of sayings from chapter 7: “Salutations and Farewells” and is out the door. I find myself alone in the kitchen with my brother, who is sober, pleasant, and now, well hydrated.
    “Jonathan?”
    He sits down at the breakfast nook, a foot propped up so he can massage his calf, and stares at me, waiting. Here he is, givingme his undivided attention. But of course, I can’t stay. I have to meet Henry at Ludwig’s so we can get our interview over with.
    “I—I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?”
    “Okay,” he says, and I hope that’s the same as him promising he’s not going to hide in his room today.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
    H enry’s already at Ludwig’s when I arrive.
    The owner, whose name is actually Antonio—Ludwig is his wife’s father, and he married into the doughnut business—greets me with a robust handshake.
    “Amanda, welcome! Henry tells me you don’t like doughnuts.”
    Henry smiles at me before taking a big bite out of a croissant. Antonio hands me one and I hesitantly bite into it, afraid of encountering something like marmalade or chocolate in the center. Pleasantly I find ham, egg, and cheese.
    “Let’s go over here, in the booth, out of everyone’s way.”
    Contrary to what one would suspect about the owner of ashop primarily selling baked goods, Antonio is much taller than he is wide. We follow him through the cluster of mismatched chairs and tables, to the back of the shop, proving that this store is actually much bigger than the storefront indicates. Henry and I sit at a blue vinyl booth. Antonio sits across from us, resting his arm over the top of the backrest.
    Antonio is obviously as bored with our questions as we are and tosses out short answers to the usual suspects, i.e., how long have you been in business? He’s more interested in telling us about the product, capping off every sentence with, “If only you would try it,” and then pausing to grin at us, like surely one of his descriptions is going to make us change our minds about our mutual aversion to doughnuts. Like we’re this close to exclaiming, “A bacon doughnut with a maple-syrup glaze, you say? That I have to try!”
    “We have a seasonal Garfield High football doughnut. The Chocolate Touchdown. We could do one for soccer.” He nods at Henry, who, per usual, is sporting his Garfield High Soccer Windbreaker.
    “An Out-on-Injury éclair.”
    I find myself hanging on every word as Henry describes the summer pickup game that messed up his knee.
    “We even have a scone in honor of Grace Marlamount,” Antonio says. “You both went to school with her, didn’t you?”
    “You do?” Henry asks. How he’s found his voice after this revelation, I’m