Chapter 7“Give Thomas some time,” Irina Mischen had suggested. So after a morning teaching a youth group alongside her, weight training, two classes at college—he could actually attend them when not on the road—a trip to the grocery store, and a quick bite of dinner and a clothing change at his apartment, Milo headed up the stairs of the Mischen home that evening. He laid all that out for Tom Alan from the open doorway to the bedroom. Standing there, sheepishly handsome, his hands behind his back, he also made circles in the hallway carpet with his shoe. Dressed in baggy cargo shorts, a plaid short-sleeved button-down, and an argyle vest on top, he looked like a schoolboy, except for all the hair. That on his head was bigger than ever and kept falling in his face.
Tom Alan knew Milo was t
