All Chapters of The Man I Was Meant to Hate: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Ava's POV Plastic and that antiseptic smell of the blanket. It digs my chin every time it moves; hence, I halt. The rear of the undecorated car is buzzing beneath me as we drive along a damp street, with tires squealing over the road.The lights go dim behind us and darken to a form of black that cannot be seen to have been. My hands are all in my lap with fingers all in the blanket, and yet they smell of smoke and cold metal. I rub them together anyway, only the smell remains.On the opposite side of me, there is a small mesh window whose back and front seats are separated. I can make out the silhouette of the head of a federal agent, the blaze of a tablet in the glass. He has not yet looked back at me, and I am rather thankful that he has not.Liam is sitting beside me with his head thrown back against the door. His eyes are closed. There is blood on my sleeve where I pressed my arm against his shoulder before in case it was all rattling and going and I could not hold my trembling.

Ava's POV It is too quiet in the room in an unnatural manner. Not peaceful. Not calm. Just tight. As if the walls are straining to listen to me.I am sitting on the edge of the narrow bed, with the blanket still on my shoulders, despite the fact that the room is warm. I am holding the phone, knuckles white. I am afraid that I might take a slack, and forfeit the sound. And just as his voice can be lost once more should I not cling to him.Liam is standing on the floor before me. He doesn't touch me. He doesn't say anything. He just hovers. He is lying against the frame of the bed, keeping his knees raised and his eyes staring at me like bulldogs.Me. Rylan is close to the door, with crossed arms and looking at the floor. The federal agent’s outside. This moment is mine.I press play. There’s a soft crackle. A breath. Then— "Ava." My chest caves in.There is something in me, as he calls me by name. Not his playful wit, longed out when he fain would vex me. It's gentle. Careful. As

Ava's POVSilence has a sound. I hear it when I wake up.No sirens. No phones buzzing. No footsteps outside the door that don’t belong to us. Just wind moving through trees and a floorboard settling somewhere down the hall.It takes me some time to remember my location. The room is small. White walls. Its ceiling is low, with a crack, a thin scar, running along its corner to the other. Sunlight is filtering through cheap curtains and falls across the bed in strips of uneven light. Liam is beside me. He is lying on his back with one hand tossed above his head, with hair that is just disheveled in a manner that would make him look younger were I not familiar with the burden he bears. And there is a slight bruise on his jaw that is nearly healed. A reminder that bodies still break despite all. I watch him breathe. Slow. Deep. Real. I had to work to get sleep, and for weeks it was. Whenever I closed my eyes, my mind continued to run, repeating the testimony, faces in the court, th

Liam's POVInstead, I did not inform her of how much I was about to leave. Not right away.The following morning, following the message, the house was silent once again, but was completely different compared to yesterday. Not calm. Watchful. And even the air appeared to be listening.Ava has her legs brought up, and she is sitting with her back to the couch. She is clearing a box of old stuff we got out of storage, papers, photos, fragments of a life that outlived fire and the truth.I watch her from the doorway. This--this--it is all that I nearly left.She lifts a photo and squints. Why do I appear as I am judging the camera? she says.I laugh softly. “You always look like that.”She smiles, and it strikes me in the chest.I move into the room and sit next to her. Our shoulders touch. Simple. Familiar. Safe, for now.She glances at me. “You’ve been quiet.”I shrug. “Just thinking.”She gazes at my face just as she always does when she is certain there is more. “About what?”I don’t

Rylan's POV I haven't slept in two days. Not any sleep that really makes you forget things. I can still hear his voice, Ethan, every time I close my eyes; he is always one step ahead, calm, sharp. He always trusts me to keep up. I didn’t. And that is the fact I keep circling round in, as though I could look at it from enough angles, it would be softened. It doesn’t.Silence there is in my apartment that makes the skin itch. There is a hum of the city beyond, and the rain and traffic pounding on the fire exit. I am sitting at the small window table, with my laptop open and with the screen blazing with lines of code and folders that no longer ought to be.But they do. Since Ethan never believed in one concealment. Neither should I.I rub my face and lean back in the chair. My weight is creaking the wood. I feel older than I should. Guilt does that. It also gets into your bones, and it does not want to go. I regret, I say to nobody. Or maybe to him.The last time I saw Ethan, he smiled