Shielded Wrongs (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 4)

"How does one become qualified for a job like that?" Ethan asked.

"I did four tours in Afghanistan. Lino found me and thought my skills might be useful. He took a chance on me, and I worked my way up since then. I started out as a bouncer at Indulgence years ago," Enzo laughed. "I'm happy to have an office now, since the music is too much for me now that I'm old."

He trailed off, Dad's eyes coming to me with all the support I should have known I'd see. The minute Enzo mentioned military experience, Dad loved him.

He was a man. He was a veteran. He looked like he'd know his way around a pair of boxing gloves.

He was everything Dad wanted his sons to be, and everything I'd never be able to become.

25

Enzo

Rebel zonked out in the back seat, her mouth open and tongue hanging out the side while sh

e laid with her tummy to the air. Chasing three children around Sadie’s parents' house after dinner had exhausted her, but she'd clearly had so much fun in that moment.

I wanted that kind of future for her, and there was no doubt in my mind that she'd be fabulous with kids.

One day. Once I could convince Sadie.

"Your Mom is interesting," I said, glancing over at her.

"She has no filter. Now you know where I get it from," she laughed, wringing her hands together. We'd helped with basic clean up before her mom shooed us out of the kitchen and said she'd finish it on her own later. It killed me to leave knowing that the mess would eat away at Sadie, but there'd been no good way to insist on helping without outing Sadie's secret.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy being with her family and love them, but there was just this hint of a piece of her missing. Like that part of her was back in the kitchen, staring at the mess and wanting nothing more than to break through the invisible barrier to clean it. It must have been such a mind fuck, to be torn in two and know that it was irrational.

That the mess would be taken care of, and there'd be all the time in the world to clean it when the family left the house.

"You should tell them. About the compulsions," I said, looking at her uncertainly.

She sighed. The sound so broken that my heart ached for her. "Why? So it can be just another thing I don't have going for me?"

"They'd support you through it, but the important thing is you wouldn't have to act like it's a dirty secret. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Baby Girl. So your brain works a little differently. That just makes you unique."

She laughed, a dry and throaty sound as her throat tightened around it. "Nobody really believes that. They're called disorders for a reason. Because the world sees something wrong with us. Mental health issues have a strong stigma. Disorders make you crazy. They make you psycho. They make you loopy and unpredictable. They make you dangerous."

"Fuck the world, Sadie. You're beautiful, just as you are. What difference does it make to anyone that you like things that have nice square angles? Is anybody negatively affected because you want to clean or that you knock precisely five times? I'm more dangerous than you are," I said, my voice trailing off.

My hatred for my PTSD was crippling, and I understood Sadie's hesitance in being open about what she suffered from to some extent. Probably better than most. Sadie came across so confident. She wore her not giving a fuck what anyone thought of her like armor to disguise the wounded woman who cared too much that the world would judge her for existing the way she was born.

"Growing up, it was always my brothers,” Sadie sighed, pausing to swallow loudly. “Dad's boys would take over the gym when they grew up. As they got older, one by one they started expressing interests elsewhere. First it was Oliver, then it was Ethan. I should have been next, right? But he never so much as hinted at it. He never wanted to give me a chance, even though I was the one who was there every day after school. It didn't matter that my brothers all played soccer or basketball instead of doing karate like me. It didn't matter that they spent their time doing anything else while I learned kickboxing. He skipped right past me and hung his hopes on Lucas, who doesn't have a business savvy bone in his body," she said, rubbing at one of her eyes in a rare show of vulnerability.

Wincing, I said the only thing I could to help ease the sting of being passed over for everything she'd ever wanted. "He loves you."

"He does," she agreed. "I know that. But it doesn't change the fact that I was his last option. It didn't stop him from looking at you like you hung the moon and could help me manage his legacy, because in his eyes I can't do it on my own. If I were one of my brothers? I'd already own the gym. That's the brutal reality. Instead, he still owns it and I'm just a manager, six years after he retired."

"I'm not going to have anything to do with the gym," I reassured her. "That's your baby. I'm helping you find a location because I want you to be safe, not because I want to tell you how to run it."

"I know, and I understand that. I might hate it, but I also know that it's for the best. Even if we don't go anywhere in the long run, I am always going to be associated with Matteo because of Ivory. I can't keep burying my head and pretending that I'm not involved in the criminal side of the city. But if my father already doubts my ability to run the gym—and he does—can you imagine what might happen if he gets wind of my disorder? It will just be another reason for him to think I can't do it," she whispered.

Reaching over to grasp her hand in mine and rest them on her thigh, I squeezed. Our relationship, while serious to me, wasn't at the point where I felt comfortable interceding on her behalf. I'd stress her abilities to her father when I could, but I wasn't comfortable enough with either of them to have a conversation with him about how his actions affected Sadie. My guess after meeting him was that Oscar had no idea how his passive comments and lack of faith upset Sadie. That she felt like less than her brothers, even though the two of them had far more in common than he had with his sons.

There was nothing to be said in the face of disappointing a parent when all we wanted was to earn their approval. She might not have said it, but the words hung in the air, regardless.

Nothing she did would ever be enough for her father to see her the way she wanted.

The way she deserved.