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"YOU CHEAT!" Mrs

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"YOU CHEAT!" Mrs. Young flings her cards down as her husband skips her turn again.

"How could I possibly cheat in Uno? It's a game of chance!" he argues, but the slight curve in the corner of his lips is clear as day.

Pepper giggles and covers her mouth behind a hand of cards as her parents break out into their fifth fight about hoarding good cards. "I think I saw Dad stash a few draw fours when he was shuffling."

Her dad gapes at her, utterly betrayed that she would rat him out. "I can't believe you just threw me out there."

"Just saying," she mumbles and ducks completely behind her cards, shoulders rising as she attempts to vanish from the conflict.

She's so fucking adorable, I can barely breathe. I bite back a smile and try my best not to stare at her, not to take in every little detail as she crosses her stubby legs and sinks into the cushions of the sofa. I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but her mood this evening has been imperceptibly uplifted compared to the past several days. Maybe because this is kind of like old times. Before she dated Mason, her family, my dad and I would come over like this all of the time. Hours ticked by like seconds as we played games and talked about nothing and everything. Thanksgiving dinner has been like a trip back to all of those years where they would have us over. It's common knowledge that Dad can't cook and Pepper would always invite me to join them, so it's kind of become our tradition to spend the holidays together.

It's nice...things drifting back to the old days.

Dad slaps a yellow skip card on top of Mr. Young's and throws me an apologetic smile. "Sorry, son, I'm going for the gold. The last piece of pie is mine."

My mouth drops as I feign shock. "You can't just skip your own kid!"

"I think he can." Pepper's giggle flirts with the air next to me. She's peeking her cute face from behind her hand before throwing a reverse card on top of the pile. "But I did work extra hard to perfect that pie, so I think Lucas should have it."

I beam at her and try to control the thudding of my heart. "Thanks, Pep. At least someone has some common sense here." I set down a card and try my best not to think too hard about the fact that she wants me to have her last piece of pie.

Whenever she made a dessert for dinner, she'd always force me to taste it and give her every detail of what I thought. If I liked it, she'd fight tooth and nail for me to get the last piece. Usually, we'd share it like a couple of sugar-addicted kids.

A smile teases the corner of my mouth as remnants of us hovering around a plate, and using our forks to battle over the last bite, flicker through my mind. Adoration squeezes the walls around my heart and attempts to suffocate me.

Sometimes I love her so much, I love these memories so much, that it hurts just to be reminded that they even exist.

"You can't show favorites, Pepper," her mom exclaims and begins shuffling through her cards as my dad goes.

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