Free Hearts In Rhythm by Angel Wheeler Page A

and pulled off his sweatshirt and offered it to her. It was warm from his body and smelled clean.
    The moon was casting a soft glow on the sidewalks, lighting their way. She’d put her shoes back on. Even though it slowed them down it was better than the cold that was eating at her toes. Going slower also meant more time to be with Brandon.
    She felt oddly comfortable with him now. So far he hadn’t said anything about her come-on or her melt down. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He had a strong jaw. Allie always liked that in a man. A squared off jaw revealed a determined man. Strong and capable. A man who could take care of a woman and her needs, both emotional and physical.
    Unlike Dylan, who wanted to only meet his own needs, even if murdering an infant is what it took. When Allie thought of Dylan nowadays, it took everything she had to not physically get sick. Samuel was her life. She couldn’t imagine a life without him. Most days, she pushed back the guilt she felt. But time doesn’t heal all wounds, contrary to what well-intentioned people attempt to convince you.
    Sometimes the memories of that day, the truth of what she almost did to Samuel overwhelms her. It chokes her. She hated Dylan for having suggested it. Not only suggesting it, but for looking up the number in the phone book and handing it to her scribbled on the back of a receipt.
    Brandon turned his head towards her. Not wanting him to know she’d been staring at him while her thoughts wandered, she looked up in the sky above his head, averting her eyes upward.
    “Beautiful moon tonight,” she said pointing overhead.
    He looked up.
    “Wow. You’re right it is beautiful. But it’s making me a little hungry. It looks like a big old pizza in the sky.” Without warning, he broke into song. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore.”
    As a big finish, he stretched his arms out with a wide flourish, hitting Allie right in the nose with the back of his right hand.
    Her hands went to her face covering her nose as she doubled over in pain. The blood began to seep through her fingertips and splatter on the concrete sidewalk in dark drops.
    “Oh my gosh, are you all right? I’m so sorry. Let me see, are you all right?”
    Allie stood upright and removed her hands from her face revealing a bloodied nose and a busted lip.
    “I think I have a tissue,” she said. She squatted on the sidewalk underneath a lamppost and began rummaging through her purse. She dug through lipstick tubes, a receipt from a clothing department store where she recently bought a pair of black stiletto heels that she had yet to wear, and no reason to. There was a toy truck of Samuel’s, and an unopened package of graham crackers that was nothing but crumbs.
    Pens, notepads, crayons, and a broken watch were no help for a bloody nose. She searched for a tissue with no luck using her right hand. She kept her left hand pressed to her face to catch the blood droplets falling.
    In frustration she picked up her purse and turned it upside down dumping all the contents out on the sidewalk. Not finding a tissue, she had to do what she had to do. There, lying on the sidewalk in the pile of purse debris was one of Samuel’s dirty socks. She had no choice. She put it to her nose and looked up to see Brandon’s reaction. He was nowhere to be seen.
    She turned around scanning the night for any trace of him. Just another runaway hero, she thought. Then she saw his silhouette sitting on a bench half a block up. She tilted her head back squeezing her nose just like Nurse Dunham from Wingfield Elementary had taught her. When she was certain the bleeding had stopped, she stooped back down and scooped up her belongings back into her purse and began to walk toward Brandon.
    “Well, how do you like that?” she asked reaching the bench. Brandon was sitting with his elbows propped on his knees, holding his head in his hands.
    “Here I am, a damsel in distress,