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“We did. I grew up in a very blue-collar area. It turns out the land they built the subdivision I lived in was contaminated by a chemical spill, and the company had tried to cover it up. We were only there for a few years, but it was enough. I lost both of my parents to cancer that we believe was caused by the chemical contamination. Trent’s family and my family were very close growing up, and when my parents were sick, they would often step in and care for me, so we were very much like brothers.”
I reach out and put my hand on his forearm. “I’m so glad you had his family for support. Are Trent’s parents okay?”
Jackson nods once, his gaze fixed on my hand. I drop it quickly, realizing the prolonged contact meant to console might have the opposite effect. When I lost my parents, I was the one who did the hugging, rather than the one seeking the hugs. It was easier to provide comfort than it was to accept it. I could control my emotions better that way.
“Trent’s mother had cancer a few years back, but they were able to catch it early enough.”
“That’s good. So she’s okay?”
“She is. She’s in remission now and that’s what’s important. The last thing I wanted was for the people who had been there with me through all of this to end up like my parents.”
“It’s a hard place to be in mentally, though, I’m sure. Wanting to save someone else from the same fate as your parents.”
“If I’d been a few years earlier on the app development frontier, I might have been able to help my own parents the same way, or at least extended their lives.” He blows out a breath. “You said you lost your parents too.” His eyes are heavy with sadness.
There’s something about shared grief. The way it binds two people through common suffering. It’s a painful but also comforting point of connection. “When I was fourteen. They died in a car accident.”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s worse, sudden death or knowing that it’s coming and not being able to do anything to stop it.”
“They both have their challenges, I think.”
“How long have they been gone?”
“It’ll be thirteen years on the fifteenth.”
“That’s soon. Next week.”
I nod. I didn’t realize we were so close to the anniversary of their death. “My sisters and I always do something special to celebrate them.”
“It’s good that you have them to lean on.”
“It is. I’m lucky that we’re as close as we are, and that we have this place to keep us that way. I guess it’s similar to the way you and your friend Trent get to work together.”
“I’m sure in a lot of ways it is. Did you start working for Spark House as a way to stay close to them?” he asks, seeming genuinely interested.
“I wanted to make sure I could be there for my younger sister. Harley really struggled with the loss after our parents passed, which isn’t surprising since she was twelve. And while our grandmother is wonderful, Harley needed a different kind of stability. I stepped in and tried to be her safe place during those years. We’re very close as a result. We live together, we work together.”
“Do you drive each other crazy?” He smiles, his expression mirthful.
“Surprisingly, no. She’s easy to get along with, and she really tends to go with the flow. But in taking on that role, I spent very little time fostering friendships outside of my family after high school. I didn’t go away for college like my older sister, Avery, did because I didn’t want to leave Harley behind, and I worried it would feel like another loss.”
“That’s a selfless thing to do.”
The friendships I’d formed in college had faded. I just didn’t have the time required to maintain them—or didn’t make them enough of a priority. “Anyway, it’s not much of a sacrifice when this is where I get to be.” I shift gears, realizing I’ve been going on about my family instead of talking business like I’m supposed to. “Do you want to see the barn? It’s probably a bit of a mess.”
His brow arches. “Do you have livestock?”
I chuckle. “Not for a long time. It’s been converted so we use it mostly for storage and preparing for the next event.”
“Oh, well then, I definitely want to see what’s inside. This behind-the-scenes kind of stuff always interests me.”
I push open the door and flick on the lights. “Over the years we insulated the space against the elements and added lighting.”
In the center of the room is a series of eight-foot tables arranged in a square. The centerpieces I’ve been working on for various upcoming events line the table closest to us, and there are three different stations, each one filled with the supplies necessary to mass produce the centerpieces.
