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She steps back.

"Caden Belmount?" She says outloud. Her knees suddenly buckle.

How could she not have known? Anyone who knows anything about the military knows about Caden Belmount, heck anyone who has ever watched any sort of news program knows about Caden Belmount.

Some said he was the next American Sniper. How he was fearless, the first man to stand up for his men, to put himself on the front line. He killed dozens of people, but saved so many more.

She didn't know he was even living here, in Idaho, let alone within feet of her. He hasn't been on the news in a while, since the news of the death of their "A Team". Caden was the only survivor and they were sending him home for his mental health to recover.

She has a hard time calculating exactly how long thats been. Months. Like everything, people eventually forgot. Caden faded into the past. A name on a paper and not much more.

She realizes then, she has been in here way longer than it really takes to grab a pair of clothes. She manages to find her feet again and starts digging through drawers. She finds his sweat pants stash and grabs a pair along with a blank T shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. All folded nicely and tucked into the drawers.

She leaves quickly, running through the shared door. She must be okay, the shower is still running.

She sets the clothes down on the bed and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

She paces the living room. Does she tell him she knows who he is? Not like he tried to hide it, but he didn't tell her either.

On the other hand, what was to tell? It was pretty clear it wasn't Iraq that made Cade the way he is. It was "home" or lack-of. He had friends in combat. People who worried about him, people who relied on him. It's like everything makes sense all of the sudden, except...how it...doesn't. 

She remembers watching the videos with her dad, the award ceremonies. The man standing on that stage was strong, courageous, outgoing. The man in her bathroom right now is a mere shadow, an empty shell. 

Cade peeks around the shower curtain, as if waiting for the door to open. He doesn't know why, but he can't seem to guide his hand down to the faucet to turn the water off. What if Brooke is outside? What if she isn't?

Brooke wears holes in the floor for another twenty minutes before she decides she needs to go check on Cade. She can't wallow forever. She slept next to the guy last night. She can't go backwards. She opens the bedroom door, still hearing the water flow in the next room. She raises her hand and has to reassure herself before actually knocking.

"I got some clothes for you, they're on the bed." she says, trying to sound as calm as possible. It doesn't work very well though. Cade immediately notices the change in her voice.

He swallows hard before shutting off the water. The towels are conveniently placed on a stand above the toilet. His wet clothes are still piled in a ball on the floor. He sighs, really not having much of a choice but to carry them out with him. The clothes Brooke picked are a mirror image of the ones he has balled in his hand. Once he pulls them over his still warm, damp body, he opens the door.

It startles both of them, as if the person standing on the other side was someone different than before.

"Oh...here..." Brooke holds her hand out, motioning at the mess of clothes in his hands.

He doesn't fight with her. He couldn't find the words even if he wanted to. She knows. There is nothing to hide anymore.

She tosses the bundle into the washer.

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