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| The Inn at Southwest |
BPOV~
"Emmett," I sigh and flop down into a bar stool beside the island in the center of the kitchen, "you can't keep doing this." My voice is tight as I try to hold back a lifetime's worth of frustration.
He looks at me, his blue eyes full of questions. This conversation is obviously years overdue.
I reach out and grab an apple from the fruit bowl, not hungry in the least but needing to do something with my hands so I don't wrap my hands around his freakishly large neck and strangle him. It's times like these when I truly realize how much of a saint Rose really is.
"I love you. You're my brother and you always will be, but that doesn't mean you know me or know what's best for me," I tell him and feel like shit when my words reach him across the kitchen.
His shoulders slump, he sucks in a sharp breath, and he literally looks like he might be sick. I feel awful hurting him, but he needs to finally, really hear me for a change.
He opens his mouth but I hold my hand up to stop the words before he can speak them. I know, or I can hazard a damned good guess at what he's going to say, and it will be more of the same. "Bella, I'm only trying to help," or "Bella, what were you thinking?" or even worse, "Bella, I really think you should ..." I don't want to hear it anymore and I sure as hell don't want to hear it in regard to Edward.
I'm twenty-seven years-old and it's way past time for him to stop treating me like I'm still that knobby-kneed, pig-tailed, little girl that used to try to keep up with him when he ran down the beach. I haven't been that girl for a long time. He's just refused to acknowledge that.
I think it's high time he met the Bella I've become.
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