He couldn’t stop shivering. Haddad’s hand on his thigh was the one warm point of contact in his whole body. He wasn’t going to make it to Afghanistan. He was just going to freeze on this flight. Haddad felt his shivers, he was certain. At 17,200 feet, Haddad pulled out his own poncho liner and a second jacket from his ruck and laid them both on top of Kris. Kris hid his face in his fleece and burrowed into Haddad. Fuck his pride. He needed the warmth. Haddad wrapped one arm around him and pulled him closer.
