Priscilla’s POV

“Pass me the butter, please,” Tanner asked as the pilot on the stovetop zapped to life. I pushed over the butter dish, leaning against the kitchen island. Oriana turned on some music, bumping Tanner’s hip playfully as she buttered up some bread.

I knew that they were in charge of making me feel better and they were doing a really great job. Keeping me out of my head, reminding me of everything that happened. I leaned back, watching Ori and Tanner dance ...