Prepare to be broken and sewed back together again! This conclusion to Jude and Trista’s story is brilliant and hazardous to my health. Back to Yesterday is a new release that will give fans of Into the Tomorrows their answers and take them on an emotional journey. Whitney Barbetti’s skill is both brilliant in this story!
Back to Yesterday
The distance from Colorado to Maine is not far enough to escape the memories.
The time I’ve been away is not long enough to heal the pain.
I left Colorado, determined to discover who I am outside of my grief, but I fell apart along the way.
I’m lost again.
When Jude follows me, I can’t turn him away. But I can’t let him in, either.
Not all the way.
I know when he finds out my secret, the one I keep hidden in the darkest part of my heart, he’ll leave me.
Alone.
Like I was before.
You can grab your copy of Back to Yesterday today from Amazon! Don’t miss the heartfelt conclusion to Trista and Jude’s story.
I think we should pen Whitney as Whitney “the Heart Breaker” Barbetti. This woman knows how to rip you apart and put you back together again. Back to Yesterday, the second in the Bleeding Hearts series and the conclusion of Jude and Trista’s story, was an emotional hurricane. I was both anxious and so terrified to read this book. The ending of Into the Tomorrows, the first in this story, made my brain explode. It took my mind hours to shut down after things ended, my internal ranting arguing with people and attempting to protect Trista. So with that ending in the back of my mind, I strapped on my emotional armor and prepared to get pounded.
Back to Yesterday takes place both immediately after the first book ends and in the near future. The story jumps back and forth between where Trista and Jude were and where they are before they get to their ending. The time shifts that happen in the book both annoyed me and ensnared me. I was sucked in, wanting to understand what to look forward to, trying to find some hope to grasp onto, and equal parts annoyed because my brain kept trying to fill in the blanks. If there is one thing I have learned, you can never completely predict what will happen, especially with Barbetti’s book.
In this story, we focus on Trista’s journey. She wanders in her isolation and sadness. It has been a while since I have read such a sad and hopeless character. As I read, I began to understand more and more about why she was that way. We see her home life first hand in a horrific way instead of just in past recollection. As the book progresses, Trista attempts to find a safe place to be still and learn who she is. We meet a whole new set of characters who influence Trista and both expose her to new trials and help her begin to heal. Yet with each new moment in her life, she is met with choices that have the ability to make things right or break the already brokenness of her heart.
I don’t want to spoil anything so I will stop rambling before I do. But be forewarned, this book goes in a different direction than expected (at least by me) and it breaks your heart. This book is dark, heavy, and hopeless. There are moments when I wanted to just hold Trista and cry with her. But when all hope seems lost, love comes in and a spark of something happens. I love that this book is about a character in progress. She is never truly there but you see her learn to embrace life and love herself.
“Are you okay?”
He laughed, but it was without humor. He dropped his head and stared at his plate as I had minutes earlier. “Am I okay?” Shaking his head, he said, “No, I’m not fucking okay.” He pushed away from the table hard enough that the screech of the chair across the wooden floor startled me. Jude was always so steady, and while he wasn’t necessarily predictable, he wasn’t prone to outbursts of anger like this. He picked up his plate and walked to the sink and I stared at his back, willing him to talk to me. But I couldn’t ask that of him.
Picking up my plate, I debated what to do. It was surreal almost, being in Jude’s apartment but not touching him the way I wanted to. Finally, I joined him at the sink as he worked a sponge into a lather and swiped it across his plate. “Let me do it,” I said softly, reaching a hand in to take the sponge from him.
He let go of the plate and clasped my forearm as I reached into the sink. His touch was gentle as he turned my wrist over and rubbed a thumb slowly across the length of my vein, visible through my translucent skin. I could only hold my breath as he touched me like this, like he was memorizing the blue lines that ran the length of my forearm. His hands were warm, searching, and I realized that I’d been yearning for this, for the simple act of him touching my skin like it was delicate. His fingers moved down, and my closed fist opened to give him access to my palm, where he traced the lines in my hands. It was so intimate, even in its simplicity, that all I could do was watch him as he examined my hands. “I’ve missed you,” he said in a voice that was just short of a whisper. My heart turned over as he bent my fingers gently back into my fist and rubbed his soapy fingers over the knuckles.
When he let go of my hand and turned away from me, I felt goose bumps ignite across my skin. All I wanted was for him to keep touching me, but I’d hurt him. And he’d hurt me.
We had miles of pain between the two of us, and even though we were no longer miles apart, that pain existed between us like another person, holding both of us back.
“I missed you too,” I said too late, when I’d caught my breath again.
“Please,” he pleaded as he rinsed the plate in his hands. “I can’t hear you say that right now.”
Nodding, I backed away. I understood. This wasn’t the time or place, and we were little more than strangers right now. I was a new Trista, someone he had never known.
Likely, someone he didn’t want to know.
I am a wife to one and a mom to two humans and one cat. I have a deep and abiding love for nachos – especially the kind with the liquid cheese, like from Taco Bell (sorry). I run on less than four hours of sleep thanks to copious amounts of Diet Coke. (Note: this paragraph is not sponsored by anyone except my hungry stomach.)
As a Navy brat, I grew up all over the country, from California, up the east coast from Florida to New England and Colorado. I currently live in Idaho, where we have lots of potatoes and windmills.
I write character-driven New Adult novels, heavy on the emotional connection. I LOVE love. I love writing about broken characters who find their soul mates.