Page 1 of Rainbow Kisses

ONE

Brian

Staringout the door of my rented duplex, I watched my older sister flash a strained smile at the rideshare driver before she opened the back door of the car and got out.

I already had an ache in the pit of my stomach, which had started the second I saw her number pop up on my phone about half an hour ago. For a split second, I’d considered letting it go to voicemail, but I knew I couldn’t.

This was why I’d moved to Allentown from Anderstown. To be closer to Lindsey and my niece, Maddy. To be here for them. To get to know my niece better, do all the things I couldn’t do living three hours away. Dance recitals and soccer games and chorus concerts and whatever else Maddy might decide to do.

But mainly, it was to make sure Linny knew she had someone she could count on to be there for her. To back her up. That’s what brothers did. At least, that’s what they were supposed to do. But not me. I hadn’t been around much the past ten years because I’d been playing hockey.

So I’d picked up the call, and after our usual careful greetings, she’d asked if she could stop by. I’d said sure. Of course. And that familiar ache immediately started to eat away at my gut.

Now, when I saw how skinny she was, I had to take a breath before I could dig deep to find a smile. Which turned genuine the second she saw me and smiled back.

“Oh my god, I almost didn’t recognize you with all that hair,” she said as she reached the porch and held open her arms for a hug. “Though you still can’t grow a beard, can you? It’s been a while, Bri-bri.”

The nickname immediately took me back to my childhood, as did the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to her like perfume. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her too-thin frame and squeezed, not too hard though. Didn’t want to hurt her, and I had at least a hundred pounds and a foot of height on her.

Her arms circled my waist, and we stood there for several seconds, just holding each other. But I knew this wasn’t just a quick social call.

“Hey, Linny.” I didn’t ask her how she was doing as I pulled away and waved her into the living room. I could see that for myself. “It’s good to see you. Come on in. You want something to drink? I got water and lemonade.”

She smiled up at me, her grin lopsided as she nodded. “Sure. Whatever you’re having. Thanks.” Her gaze whipped around the room, assessing everything. A habit I didn’t think she’d ever break. “Nice place. Kinda bare though. Don’t feel like celebrating the season, huh?”

Christmas was only a couple weeks away, but I didn’t decorate. Why should I? I lived alone. Hell, I didn’t even own Christmas decorations.

“It’s just a short-term rental, ’til I decide where I want to settle. It came furnished.”

I headed for the back of the house, to the kitchen, listening for her footsteps to make sure she followed me. That was my old habit, making sure she hadn’t stopped somewhere to pocket something.

I immediately felt like an asshole for even thinking that.

“Not working today? I thought you had a job.”

Her voice held a note of something I couldn’t place. Panic? Nerves?

“I do. I’m working at the lumberyard. Pays pretty well. All those years of hockey were good for something, I guess. I can deadlift a hundred pounds of concrete mix, so…yeah. I’m pulling a Saturday shift, so I’m off today.”

She sat on a chair at the table while I pulled out a couple cans of lemonade.

“Do you miss playing?”

Crossing to the table, I took a few seconds to answer that while I sat down opposite her.

“Yeah.”Understatement of the year.“But I needed a break.”Not exactly true.

Linny nodded, gaze flashing away. “You gonna go back? Or you gonna use that degree you got in…what was it? Math?”

My gut clenched. “Don’t know that a team would sign me right now. And I never got my teaching degree so…”

Her eyes narrowed, and she nailed me with a look that made me feel ten again and in trouble for breaking a window with a puck. “You never did tell me what happened.”

I took a swallow of lemonade before answering. “Disagreement with another player on the team. Decided I should probably take a little time away.”

For a second, I thought she’d ask what had happened. But that wasn’t us. We didn’t like to rehash shit. We just moved on.So she nodded, her head dropping forward, eyes downcast as she put her clasped hands on the table. Not in prayer, because we didn’t do prayer either.

I took a deep breath and braced for impact. When she looked up again, I saw the look I’d been expecting since she’d called. Desperation.

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