Emma's mouth was agape. Given the life – or rather, lives – she'd led, there was not much that could surprise her anymore, or make her gasp. Alexander's confession, however, left her speechless. Tiny sounds escaped her lips, as if she were trying to say something, yet she didn't know what – her brain had a hard time processing one single sentence he'd just uttered.

"What ... what do you mean prison?" And murder. Prison and murder were two words that even one like her didn't put together without shuddering the slightest, yet Alexander had pronounced them easily, as if he weren't talking about himself.

He took a deep breath, and went to sit on the couch, well aware that there was no going back. He'd said the words, now he ought to explain. But how could he explain without giving away the rest? "I told you my mother was German, didn't I?" He began, looking up for a moment to check if Emma was still paying attention. When she nodded, he went on: "Emphasis on was. She died when I was 17."

There, Emma gasped again, bringing a hand to her mouth. Her heart was catching the implications of what was happening way faster than her mind. A single phrase resonated in her head: he's opening up. When she'd let slip about his tattoos, she'd done so with the certainty that he would just divert the subject, ignore her question. She'd have never expected that he would bare himself to her like that. Was it right? Should she stop him?

"I don't wanna make it long," Alexander said, eyes trained on the coffee table in front of him, hands clasped together, "she was the light of my life, and losing her, I lost myself. Enough to do something that not many people would accept. But in all honesty, I would do it again."

"You ..."

"I killed who killed her."

Emma pressed a hand over her mouth again to avoid gasping or emitting any sound. He wouldn't know, but the reason for her reactions wasn't due to the heinous act he was guilty of. She was trying to catch up with the realization that he was baring himself completely to her, and that he expected her to have a specific response.

Judging by how persistently he was avoiding eye contact – something he never did –, Emma would say he was afraid of losing what little respect and even affection she may have had in his regards. That's where the full depths of her realization hit her. He couldn't lose something she'd unwillingly given. But it was her duty to step away.

"Emma." Alexander called, breaking through her train of thoughts. "Say something." Anything. Hiding 7 years of prison wasn't that difficult, especially with Nancy's help, but talking about it, about his mother, it was taking more than anyone would understand.

Or maybe Emma could. They'd both lost a parent that'd been their whole world. Circumstances were, hopefully, different, but the fact remained, they'd both been left stranded and lost at a young age. Then again, Alexander chided himself, he hadn't been alone, there was his Nana.

"Was it ... was it your father?" Emma found her voice. "He ... was he ..."

"Yes." Alexander didn't flinch as he summed up the darkest time of his life in a few sentences: "After years of abuse, he killed her. He got out of jail after 3 years. I sat on his chair, waited for him the day he was released, and I shot him with the same rifle he used to hunt with."

There was no emotion in his recount, not even grief or regret. His voice was completely flat and impassive as he admitted to having killed his own father. In the light of her attachment to her own parental figure, Emma found it difficult to fully grasp the ease with which Alexander talked about that man's murder. At the same time, she understood the rage and the grief he must have felt – she'd been the same. The difference was, his rage had had a target and a culprit.

"Does ..." Emma cleared her throat, to be sure her voice didn't give away any emotion. "Does ... Delilah know?"

"No." Alexander shook his head. "All she knows is that we're orphan, Nana raised us. And yes, Nana does know. He was her son." There was a long pause, maybe more than a few minutes, during which Alexander kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see her when she spoke the words he dreaded.

But when she didn't, he laid it down thick and thin for her: "I understand if this ... revelation changes everything between us," he said, then cracked a small bittersweet smile, "not many people can take it."

"Nancy could?" Emma blurted out without thinking, louder than she'd intended to.

Alexander pressed his lips in a thin line. That question opened to a lot more explanations than he could give at the present time. "No, she doesn't know." He lied. "You're the only one I told." He added, albeit feeling guilty.

For her part, Emma took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down a heart that had started living again at the wrong time, and definitely for the worst possible person. Once she knew she could speak without giving away anything, Emma went to sit on the sofa, and surprised him by reaching out for his hand, taking it into hers. "I get it." Was all she said, then squeezed his hand.

Alexander looked at her, baffled, unsure what to make of her simple words. "Are you sure you heard what I said?"

She cracked a tiny smile. "If there's one thing I understand, is a lost soul. You did what you thought was right. I would have probably done the same."

"You would kill for someone you love?"

Emma pulled her lips into a thin line as she stared into his fiery green eyes for a long moment, then she spoke softly. "I don't love often, but when I do, I give my all."

"That's quite the statement."

"What I was saying earlier, when I started talking," she squeezed his hand a bit more, "I meant it. I'm not used to people caring without secondary purposes. Only my father did, and when he died in that stupid accident, I lost myself." She nodded when he opened his mouth to speak: "Yeah, just like you. But the difference is, you managed to come back, I don't know if I can or ever will."

Alexander squeezed her hand in in return. "Maybe there's no going back," he said as he pulled her onto his lap, "maybe the only way is forward."

"Not when your past won't let you go."

He cracked a small smile as he left his forehead against hers after having wrapped an arm around her hips – to make sure she wouldn't fall. "The thing about the past, is that it only lives if we let it."

"Now who's the philosopher?" She chuckled.

"Seven years in a 4x4 room give you a lot of time to think. And get an education, I guess." He pursed his lips. "So, you're not scared of me now, are you?"

"Not many things scare me, Alexander."

"Except your own heart." When she froze, he smiled the slightest. "It's been beating pretty fast against my chest."

"You almost dropped me." She lied, albeit blushing the slightest.

Alexander's smile widened a bit as he pulled her closer. He snaked an arm under her thighs, and stood up with her. "I'd never drop you," he said, and somehow Emma was sure he meant it way more than literally. He laid her down on the sofa, and kneeled at her side. His face neared hers, but much to her surprise, he didn't kiss her, even though their lips could almost graze each other.

Alexander grabbed her hand, and brought it to his chest, at level with his heart. "See, he's not afraid of you." He claimed, letting her feel his calm heartbeat. "On the contrary," he claimed, bringing her other hand to her own heart, "this ... this is terrified of me."

Emma sat up, setting her feet down on the ground. "Don't you think it has a reason to?" Before he could speak, she added: "A reason that isn't connected to what you did."

He pursed his lips, pulling back the slightest. "Things with Nancy aren't what you think they are, Emma."

As if he'd broken a spell of some sort, she stiffened. "Don't." She said firmly, standing up. "Don't come telling me how things aren't going well between you two, how she neglects you, you feel lonely, and oh, you'll surely leave her for me ... don't be just another cheating boyfriend in the number, Alexander." What a fool, she'd been. To linger in such a sweet, endearing moment, to forget who he was and what were they doing.

"Emma ..."

She quickly reached the bed, to get her boots, then grabbed the bag from the sofa. "I appreciate what you've done for me," she said coldly, "I really do. But I cannot accept." She tried to move past him, but he prevented her. "I need to go home."

Alexander stood against the door. "Don't be silly. This is your chance to move forward."

"I'll be fine." She pushed him, but when he didn't move, she sighed. "Let me pass."

"How can you stay when I tell you I killed someone, yet you run away when-"

"When what?" She cut him off. "When I'm reminded of the very nature of our thing?" Emma clenched her hands in a fist at her sides. "We shouldn't have come this far."

"But we have. Willingly or not."

"Then it's time to stop."

"There are things you don't know, Emma." He said, swiftly putting himself between her and the doorknob. "The situation is way more complicated than you could possibly imagine, but it's not impossible."

"How is it not?" She raised her voice, even though it quivered a bit. "I've done a lot of bad things in my life, but the worst is having betrayed my only friend. And all because of you."

"It's not what you think."

"Please, spare me." She shook her head. "Now let me go."

Alexander stepped aside, letting her open the door, but before she could go out, he said: "If you have the strength to deny what your heart is aching for, then you're way more scared than I thought. But I'm not like that. If there's one thing prison teaches you, is that you only live once, and I'm not going to renounce to the only thing that's given this," he patted his chest, over his heart, "a reason to beat."

Emma, who had frozen in her steps, closed her eyes, and heaved a deep sigh. "If you think I'm a good enough reason to throw away everything you've built, then you're crazier than I thought." Having said that, she slammed the door behind her, and left.

Sighing, Alexander dropped against the wall. How could things go south so easily? Maybe it was time to do something other than wait. Emma wouldn't be there in a year, would she? Not unless he gave her a good reason. Heaving yet another deep sigh, Alexander grabbed his phone from his back pocket, and made a call.

"Well, hello, Honeybunch, miss me already?" Nancy's mellifluous voice filled his ears the moment she picked up.

I miss the old you, he would have wanted to say, but he kept it. For what he was about to ask, he needed her in the best possible mood. "We need to talk."

"About?"

"About our deal."

Nancy's grip on the steering wheel tightened and her jaw clenched. Of course, she thought as she watched Emma leave the building, how predictable. It was evident in his eyes. Clearly, the lost kitten look still played men pretty well, Nancy mentally scoffed.

Well, then, if he thought he could get out of it that easy, he through wrong, so wrong. And that hoe? Emma wanted to play with fire, then fire she would be. They wouldn't even know what hit them.