A Strange Relief

A week had passed since Sienna's accident. Since the news broke, the world had been spinning as if nothing had happened, but Grace could still feel the weight of it in the air. The headlines had been relentless—Tragic End for Rising Star, Sienna's Final Night: A Mystery Unfolds—but after the initial shock, the world moved on.

And so had Jax.

At least, that's what he claimed.

They were sitting on the couch, a quiet afternoon stretching ahead of them. The apartment felt peaceful, untouched by the chaos that had surrounded them just days ago. Jax was leaning back, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Grace's thigh as she scrolled through her phone.

Then, out of nowhere, he said it.

"She's out of my life."

Grace blinked, turning to look at him.

Jax's expression was unreadable, but there was something in his voice—something she couldn't quite place.

"And?" she asked carefully.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "And... I think I'm glad."

Grace stilled.

Her fingers tightened around her phone as she processed his words. He wasn't saying it in a cruel way—there was no malice, no satisfaction—but the fact that he could say it at all, that he could admit relief after everything that had happened... it caught her off guard.

"Jax... she died." Her voice was quiet, hesitant.

He nodded, rubbing his jaw. "I know."

Grace searched his face, trying to understand. "And you're glad?"

Jax let out a slow breath, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He stared at the floor, his fingers laced together. "I don't mean it like that," he said, voice lower now. "I'm not glad she's dead. But I'm glad she's... gone."

Grace felt something cold creep up her spine.

"Jax, that's—" She hesitated, not even sure what she wanted to say.

Jax looked at her then, his blue eyes clear, calm. "She wasn't going to stop, Grace. You know that." He ran a hand over his face. "I spent years trying to fix things with her. Years letting her back in, letting her twist everything. And now, for the first time in forever, I don't have to look over my shoulder. I don't have to wonder when she'll show up next, what she'll try to ruin."

He leaned back again, letting out a breath.

"She's out of my life. And I can finally breathe."

Grace swallowed, looking away.

She should understand what he meant. A part of her did.

But another part of her?

It was unsettled.

Grace forced herself to breathe, but something about Jax's words wouldn't settle right in her chest. She understood the logic—Sienna had been toxic, relentless, a storm that never passed. But still.

"Jax... she was a person," Grace said quietly, staring down at her hands.

Jax exhaled sharply. "I know that, Grace. You think I don't know that?" His tone wasn't angry, but there was something tight in it, something restrained. "I didn't want her dead. I didn't ask for this."

Grace finally met his gaze. "But you don't care that she is."

Jax's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything.

The silence stretched.

Grace could hear the faint hum of traffic outside, the distant sound of a car horn. Inside the apartment, the air felt heavier, like the walls were holding onto something unspoken.

Jax ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. "You don't get it."

"Then make me get it."

He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "I've spent so much of my life feeling guilty over her. About how we ended, about what I could've done differently. And what did it ever get me? More games. More manipulation. More drama." He leaned forward again, rubbing his hands together. "I didn't kill her, Grace. I had nothing to do with what happened to her. But yeah—" he looked up, eyes sharp now "—I'm not going to sit here and pretend to be heartbroken."

Grace's stomach twisted.

She wasn't expecting him to grieve. Not really. But something about the way he was talking—so detached, so done—it unnerved her.

"It just doesn't sound like you," she admitted.

Jax's lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe this is who I am now."

Grace inhaled sharply. "Jax—"

He stood up abruptly, running a hand down his face before grabbing his phone from the table. "I need some air."

"Jax, wait—"

"I'll be back."

The door shut behind him before she could say another word.

And Grace?

She sat there, staring at the spot where he'd been, a gnawing feeling in her gut telling her that something about this wasn't right.

Not at all.

Grace sat frozen, staring at the door long after Jax had left.

Her mind kept replaying his words. Maybe this is who I am now.

It didn't sound like him. At least, not the version of him she knew. Jax had always been passionate, intense—but not cold. Not like this.

A pit settled in her stomach.

She pushed herself up from the couch, pacing the room. Maybe she was overthinking. Maybe he just needed space. But something about the way he'd looked at her—like she wouldn't understand, like she couldn't understand—made her skin prickle.

Her eyes flickered to her phone. She hesitated before unlocking it, her fingers hovering over Finn's name.

She hadn't spoken to him much since that night at the gala, and she hated the idea of dragging him into this. But right now, she needed someone who wasn't Jax. Someone who wasn't tangled up in whatever this was.

With a deep breath, she sent a quick text.

Grace: Hey. You busy?

The reply came almost instantly.

Finn: For you? Never. What's up?

She chewed her lip before typing back.

Grace: Can you meet me somewhere?

A few seconds passed.

Finn: Name the place.

The coffee shop was quiet when she arrived, the scent of espresso thick in the air. She spotted Finn near the window, drumming his fingers against his cup as he waited.

When he saw her, his expression shifted—relief mixed with something else. Concern.

"Hey," he said as she slid into the seat across from him. "Everything okay?"

Grace let out a breath. "I don't know."

Finn studied her carefully. "Is this about Jax?"

She nodded.

He sighed. "What did he do?"

She hesitated. "It's not what he did. It's what he said."

Finn raised a brow.

Grace looked down at her hands, picking at her nails. "It's about Sienna. He... he said he's glad she's gone."

Finn leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing. "I mean, that's not exactly shocking. She put him through hell."

Grace swallowed. "I know. And I get it. But it was the way he said it. Like he wasn't just relieved. Like..." She exhaled. "Like he's not even bothered by it."

Finn was quiet for a moment. Then he tilted his head. "Are you asking if I think he had something to do with it?"

The question made her stomach churn. "No. I mean—" She groaned, rubbing her temples. "God, I don't know what I'm saying."

Finn watched her, his expression unreadable.

Then he leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Grace... do you think he had something to do with it?"

She froze.

The words sat heavy in the air, thick with unspoken possibilities.

"No," she said automatically.

Finn didn't look convinced. "You sure about that?"

Grace opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Because the truth was... she wasn't.