Everyone knows the name Revel Slade. They know to fear him. To never get too close because this guy, he’s so hot he commands the fires of hell, and he will burn you to cinders and enjoy watching the flames dance. He haunts my every move. So why am I going on tour with him? I’m an idiot. That’s why.
We were two hearts, two souls, devastated by the same loss. I met Beau Ryland where the red clay danced along the water’s edge, and bursts of light rained down on us. A night when the heat couldn’t be escaped. As he whispered against sun-kissed summer-sweet skin, “Baby, look up and get lost on that
