The staff room above the arena is functional and nothing more—four walls, a cot, a chair, her luggage in the corner where someone had placed it while she was watching the game.
Mia takes her medication, lies down, and presses two fingers into the specific point below her sternum that her father had taught her about at fifteen when the stomach problems first started.
It works well enough. By the time the ceremony ends and the buses are loaded, she's upright and functional, which is all she needs to be.
After resting briefly and getting luggage sorted, the team board the bus and head for the airport.
"Fu*k! Back-to-back away games? This is straight-up torture!" Jason snarls, running a frantic hand through his disheveled hair.
"And that's exactly why conditioning isn't a suggestion, Jaso
