Maggie grabs the milk, pouring several mugs full before reaching to put it away. When she does, the sleeve of her t-shirt rises, and something catches my eye. What the fuck. I reach out for her arm, stopping in her tracks as I push the sleeve up. “Maggie, what happened?” I ask, my eyes taking on several round burn marks scattered under her upper arm. Just high enough to be concealed with the sleeve of a t-shirt. She jerks at my touch, quickly yanking it down before she shakes her head. “It’s nothing.” “That’s not nothing, Maggie,” I argue. “Drop it!” she snaps, a fierceness to her tone that I
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