Old habits die hard, and I am waiting for someone to jump out at me and tell me that I have been punked or wake up from this amazing dream I have been having. Time is flying by and, while Jackson and I seem to be living in our little bubble of bliss, I can’t help the nagging suspicion that nothing this good can be real.
“What are you thinking, Kat?” Jackson asks as we zoom down the motorway towards Devon, comfortably ensconced in Jackson’s truck. When he’d turned up in this ‘monstrosity’ I hadn’t been able to hide my surprise; somehow, I saw him in some kind of sleek sports car rather than this 1950s Chevy truck that has been lovingly restored. Turns out Jackson is also a little bit of a grease monkey on the side, restoring old cars and trucks when he’s not on tour. Yet another little nug
