“Will you bring her to visit me?” she finally asked, sitting up and rubbing her right wrist.

“What?”

“Maggie…will you bring her to visit me in prison?”

Prison.

I had used the word so metaphorically over the past few months that its actual physical incarnation had temporarily escaped me.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“She has to be returned to your family. To Glen. And without her…and without you…I don’t have any other motivation not to face my consequences. I don’t have anything else,” she says, the tears falling recklessly now, “I didn’t believe you when you told me I could have both. And I have to be punished for not believing you. For believing her, instead and sacrificing you because of it. I have to face this thing, Spencer. It’s the only thing I can do for you, I know. And my daughter needs to have a mother who…yeah, made a lot of unforgivable mistakes, but you know…she has to see me paying for them. At least she can have a mother who can do that. I can show her that I love her by giving up my freedom. I don’t know. I just know I have to do something and I…”

I didn’t mean for it to happen, nor could I comprehend why I needed it to, but I quickly gathered all that was left of Ashley Davies and held her the way she might never again hold her daughter. I held her the way I wished I could on dark nights in motel rooms that had already begun to blend together into one. I held her the way I used to before the truth collapsed on top of me, stilling my naïve dreams for us and leaving me crushed and weakened by the blow of a million tiny truths.

“Of course I will,” I said into her shoulder, feeling it shiver beneath my chin, “I’ll bring her as often as I can.”

“Okay, then I can do it. I really can.”

I nodded, still holding her. Still holding on to a moment that would never actually exist for us.

“Of course you can.”

She suddenly pulled away from me, thoroughly wiping away her tears, “Can I have a minute with her? I just want to hug her and…”