She’d never seen him cry like this, as if his heart were breaking. Sam sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. The heat from his body radiated through the thin T-shirt he wore, but he didn’t feel quite as hot as he had during the night.

“I still feel awful,” he said between sobs. “I can’t go to the party.”

“I’m so sorry, and so is Dad. We know how disappointed you are.” And she knew that under normal circumstances, Scotty would never cry over such a thing. “But Dad said last night—and it’s true—there’ll be lots and lots of chances to have fun with your friends and lots of other parties.”

“I wanted to go to this one.”

“I know.” Desperate to find a way to comfort him, she settled him back on his pillow. “How about we have our own little party right here? We’ll watch whatever movie you want and play video games.”

His shoulders lifted ever so slightly.

She was no substitute for his friends, but she’d do whatever she could to fill the void. “You want to get up and try to eat something?”

He shook his head. “No, thanks. Not yet.”

“Let me know when you’re ready.” She tucked him in and kissed his forehead.

“Thanks,” he said, “for taking care of me and stuff.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Sure,” he said with the tiniest hint of a smile. “Cleaning up puke is a pleasure.”

“Being your mom is a pleasure. The good, the bad and the ugly. I love it all.”

“Something’s wrong with you if you like the ugly.”

“I hear that every day.” She left him with a smile and went back to her room, crawling in bed next to Nick, who hadn’t stirred. When she placed a hand on his back, the heat of his body alarmed her. She felt his forehead and launched out of bed to find the thermometer Harry had left for her. Running it over his forehead, she gasped when it registered at 104.5. Dear God!

“Nick.” She shook his shoulder. “Babe, wake up. You’ve got to take something for the fever.” Kissing his cheek, she said, “Nick, wake up.” He didn’t respond, even when she shook him vigorously.

Frantic, Sam grabbed her phone from the bedside table and called Harry. “Nick is at 104.5, and he won’t wake up,” she said the second Harry answered.

“Call 911. Right now. I’ll meet you at GW.”

“I can’t leave Scotty with only his detail!”

“Call Tracy to stay with him.”

“Okay. I’ll do that. Harry—”

“Make the call, Sam.”

Her hands shook as she called 911 and requested an ambulance. In the hallway, she said to Darcy, “I called rescue for Nick. He’s unresponsive.”

“Oh my God! I’ll let them know downstairs.”