Page 9

I laugh to myself and take another sip of coffee before I type out my reply.

Me

Surviving. Barely. Mondays suck.

The phone buzzes again. I glance. This time it’s a meme that says, “If Monday was a haircut, it’d be a mullet.” I snort into my mug, coffee spattering my hand.

Me

I can picture you with a mullet.

Mr. Hockey God

Ouch. You wake up cranky on Monday.

Me

I wake up cranky every day of the week.

Mr. Hockey God

We’ll have to work on changing that. I bet I can find a way or two to make mornings better for you.

I don’t even have a reply. So I toss my phone on the counter and head off to work on my bedhead.

Tuesday morning is crazy in the ER, but there’s a moment at 10:40 a.m. when the trauma bay is calm, and I’m in the back break room, inhaling a blueberry bagel when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

My heart pounds hard as I take it out hoping it’s a message from Mick.

Mr. Hockey God

How’s your day going?

Me

I’m surviving. How’s your day?

Mr. Hockey God

It sucks. I’m missing you.

A piece of bagel sticks in my throat and I have to take a big sip of diet coke to get it to go down as another message comes in.

This text is a picture of him with a mullet. I choke and end up spraying diet coke all over the pile of work schedules sitting on the edge of the break room table. Once I’m able to breathe without coughing, I send him another message.

Me

New haircut?

Mr. Hockey God

Yep, thought I’d look good for our date Friday.

I know he’s joking. It’s easy to see the image has been photoshopped but I can’t help myself from responding.

Me

I like it. It matches your bone structure.