Cards of Love: The Hermit by Cora Brent

He was the last person I expected to find out here.
Once he was the golden boy of American boxing.
Now he’s a desert recluse with a bad attitude.
Everyone knows the unthinkable tragedy he suffered.
And why he retreated to an isolated place where the world couldn’t touch him.
He’s not searching for love. He’s not searching for anyone.
I understand.
After a decade of grief I’m still struggling with my own loss and regret.
I’m not searching for love either. I know the potential for pain is too high.
But I know something else too.
There are some cravings that don’t disappear, some desires that can be satisfied without the inevitable agony that love can yield.
And while I’m here I want to feel every single one of them with him.