By three o'clock, the sun was blazing over Iron City as Ryan pulled into the lot at the Roarers Training Center.
The training center was quiet, the team's morning session long over.
He didn't linger in the gym—just made a beeline for the medical room, rapping lightly on the door before stepping inside.
"Ryan," Dr. Lopez greeted him, glancing up from a clipboard. "Right on time. How's it feeling?"
"Throat's way better, no more fog in my head," Ryan said, his voice steadier than yesterday's rasp. "Still got a bit of a cough, though."
"Good. Let's take a look." Lopez snapped on his stethoscope, motioning Ryan to sit. "Deep breath—in, out."
Ryan complied, inhaling the sterile air, exhaling slowly.
