He was moving, and that’s what mattered.

Sam blew out a deep breath. “Well, that was fun. When can we do this again?”

“Don’t be such a worrywart, Sam. Guys get banged up playing hockey. We don’t want to be treated like babies.”

“Is that right?”

“Nick will probably be mad that he got checked out of the game, so I wouldn’t say anything about it if I were you.”

“Now I’m taking marriage advice from a twelve-year-old?”

“Soon-to-be thirteen-year-old,” he replied with the engaging grin she and Nick had loved from the start.

“Ahhh, so I’ve heard. I suppose I have to get a cake or something, huh?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Mrs. L got me an ice cream cake every year,” he said of his former guardian at the state home. “That’s my favorite.”

“I can’t compete with Mrs. L. I’m sure to mess this up in some important way. You know that, right?”

“You don’t have to compete with anyone. You and Nick have given me everything. I don’t need an ice cream cake.”

The kid was too damned much. Sam put both arms around him. Her usual rules of public displays of affection absolutely did not apply to the son she loved beyond reason. “You’ve given us so much more than we could ever give you.”

“Doubtful,” he said in the dry tone she’d come to anticipate.

Sam kept an arm around him until the game came to an end and she could go check on Nick—without making a fuss, of course. She wouldn’t want to be accused of hovering or any other unsavory “girl” thing.

They waited for him outside the locker room with several of the other spouses and family members. He was one of the last to come out, his hair damp with sweat, his face red from exertion and pinched with pain. It was all she could do not to run to him, but she heeded Scotty’s advice and hung back until he joined them.

“Awesome game,” Scotty said, beaming up at Nick. “You’re so good! You’ve never skated like that when we practice.”

His smile more of a grimace, Nick mussed Scotty’s hair. “Because that’s about you, not me.” He glanced at Sam, who could tell with one look he was in pain and trying hard to hide it from them. “Who’s up for pizza?”

“Me!” Scotty said. “But can I get a hot chocolate first?”