Sam hooked her arm around the twelve-year-old she and Nick were adopting out of state custody in Virginia and brought him close enough to drop a kiss on the top of his head. “Sure you will. Keep working hard and do what Nick tells you, and you’ll be up to speed in no time.”

“I don’t know,” Scotty said hesitantly, his eyes fixed on Nick. “All the other kids are way better than me.”

That’s because they’d been skating and playing hockey for as long as they could walk, while Scotty had been well cared for but without the frills and extras most kids took for granted. “I have faith in you, and in Nick. If you guys keep practicing as much as you have been lately, you’ll catch up.”

Nick had spared no expense in outfitting Scotty with top-of-the-line hockey skates and all the required protective equipment. Sam had joked that the hockey bag was bigger than the kid, but Nick had assured her it was no bigger than anyone else’s. Hockey, she was learning, took a tremendous amount of time, equipment and money—not to mention the warmest coat she owned whenever she ventured into the ice rink.

“I hope you’re right,” Scotty said.

“I’m always right.”

That drew an expected snort of laughter from the boy. “And totally full of yourself.”

Sam tightened her arm around him into a headlock that made him laugh even harder.

They froze when Nick was checked—hard—into the boards and went down in a boneless pile on the ice.

Sam gasped and would’ve left the stands to get closer to him, but Scotty held her back.

“Don’t. He wouldn’t want you to make a thing of it in front of the guys.”

When had he gotten so wise about such things? With her eyes riveted to the ice, she waited breathlessly for any sign of movement from her husband. All she could think about was her dad and the egregious gunshot injury he’d suffered nearly three years ago, which had left him a quadriplegic.

The coach and several other players huddled around Nick, making it impossible for Sam to see what was happening. One of the other wives sent her a sympathetic glance that set her nerves even further on edge. “Come on, come on,” she whispered. “Get up.”

Scotty’s hand curled around her arm, and Sam wasn’t sure if he was giving comfort or taking it.

After what seemed like an hour had passed, the other players and coaches moved back and one of them helped Nick to his feet. Everyone in the stands applauded as he made his way—slowly—to the bench. It was killing her not to know what he’d hurt or whether it was serious, but at least she could breathe again watching him glide over the ice with coaches on either side of him.