SF

Anna Greene has spent fifteen years loving the same man—and almost as long learning how to survive him. Now thirty-three and separated from a husband she still can’t quite let go of, Anna has gotten very good at holding everything together: her salon, her family, her little New Orleans house, and the increasingly dangerous consequences of Chris’s addiction. Then Jon Mercer walks into her salon needing a haircut. He’s older, scarred, infuriatingly quiet, and gives suspiciously vague answers about what he does for a living. Anna asks too many questions. Jon answers approximately three of them. He isn’t supposed to become her friend. She definitely isn’t supposed to start noticing his hands. And Jon—who knows better than to want a married woman—certainly isn’t supposed to fall first. But the more time they spend together, the harder it becomes to ignore what’s growing between them. Jon won’t ask Anna to leave her husband. He won’t rescue her. He won’t even tell her how long he’s been waiting. Because this isn’t a story about choosing between two men. It’s about what happens when a woman who’s spent her entire life saving everyone else finally realizes she might be worth saving, too. A gritty, Southern Gothic slow-burn romance about addiction, marriage, grief, friendship, unbearable sexual tension, and the terrifying intimacy of being truly seen.