Free Milayna's Angel by Michelle Pickett

texted me as soon as he got home
Saturday night. I read the text to make sure everything was all
right. When I knew it was, and had satisfied my curiosity about
what he wanted to say, I set the phone on my nightstand without
answering. I told myself if he texted again, I’d answer him. But
even though I kept checking every thirty seconds—okay, maybe not
that often, it was a least a minute between peeks—he didn’t text
again. Disappointment flooded me. Which was so totally stupid since
he did text me first.
    Disappointment quickly gave way to irritation
by Sunday morning. He texted me twice Sunday afternoon. I didn’t
acknowledge either of them, which was rude and childish. I didn’t
care. I’d decided sometime in the wee hours of the morning when I
was lying in bed thinking about him that I didn’t want to discuss
things through text messages. So I was waiting for him to call. He
didn’t. Which pissed me off even more.
    Of course, I could’ve—should’ve—called him.
He’d made the first move by texting as soon as he got home Saturday
night and telling me he loved me. But I was still in the midst of
my pity party, and I wasn’t going near the phone first. No
friggin’ way .
    I heard the doorbell ring around dinnertime,
and my heart beat a staccato rhythm against my ribs.
    Chay!
    I bounded down the stairs just as my dad
opened the door.
    “Hey, how ya doing?” my dad said.
    I heard a man answer. “Doin’ good, and
you?”
    That isn’t Chay. Who is that?
    My dad opened the door wider for the guy to
come inside, and time screeched to a halt.
     

 
     
    7
Angel
     
    Xavier.
    Seriously? Xavier here?
    The foyer was at the foot of the stairs.
Xavier just had to look up and see me standing on the steps. I
backed up slowly before he noticed me. Making my way quietly to my
bedroom, I avoided the floorboards I knew creaked.
    Xavier. Xavier? What’s he doing here? He
knows my dad? Xavier, really?
    I couldn’t get my mind wrapped around him
being in my house, or why he’d be there in the first place.
    “Milayna…” I heard a high-pitched voice call
from outside.
    “Oh, no,” I whispered. “Not now.”
    “We’re here to play,” Friendly called from
the yard below my window. He looked like a demonic Santa Claus with
his red skin covered in the fresh, white snow.
    “Come outside now,” Scarface screeched. “It’s
too damned cold out here to play. I wanna go home where it’s
warm.”
    “Mi-lay-na…” they said in their little girly
voices. “Come outside.”
    My cell phone vibrated against the bedside
table. I knew it’d be Chay with the hobgoblins making their
appearance in my backyard.
    He can’t come over while Xavier is here.
    I snatched the phone from the table and
opened his text.
    Chay: How long have they been
there?
    Me: Just spotted them.
    Chay: Oh, you’re answering me now?
    I could almost hear his sarcasm. I didn’t
answer him.
    Chay: I’m coming over.
    Me: No, they aren’t doing anything. I’m
not going outside anyway.
    Chay: Hmm.
    Me: “What?” I said aloud as I typed on the
little keypad.
    Chay: You don’t want me to come
over?
    Me: That’s not it. I’ll call.
    I dialed his number, and he answered on the
first ring. Well, answered implied he said something. It would be
better to say he picked up on the first ring, because he didn’t say
anything.
    “Hey,” I said. I waited patiently for him to
decide to respond. “You know, you’re acting like a child by not
speaking.” Of course, it didn’t escape my attention that I’d been
acting like one by not answering his texts. I chose not to examine
that too closely.
    “And you haven’t been?”
    “I didn’t say that.” I sighed. “I just didn’t
want to discuss things through text messages.”
    “You could have called.”
    “The phone works both ways, Chay.”
    He snorted a laugh and muttered something
under his breath before telling me, “If I’d known that’s what you
wanted, I would have called. Something