“Jean.” There was more regret in his name than exasperation. “Is there nothing I can do?” Jean thought about Rhemann delaying an interview as long as he could and barring USC’s gates when the press followed the Trojans to class. He thought of Rhemann cleaning Grayson’s bloody bites himself and the careful way he’d strapped ice to Jean’s bruised ribs last night. He’d gotten Jean out of sight before the Trojans could see him, knowing Jean’s control was in tatters, and brought him here so he could recover away from their smothering concern. Jean didn’t know how to handle or process these
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