Page 80 of Love Not Qualified

“And what did you do?” Haelyn asked.

“I got up, ignored every bone that hurt in my body, and taught myself how to ski. Three years later, he couldn’t keep upwith me anymore.” I couldn’t help the smirk finding its way on my face.

Dad screaming at me to slow down was a picture I could never forget. He laughed with his eyes and lips, a thrill running in my veins at the thought of finally outdoing my father. He wasn’t upset or jealous, he clapped me on the back and gave me a shot. I thought it was alcohol, but it was water. That day, I felt like I won the lottery.

Her lashes fluttered on her eyelids, the tips of her mouth turning down. “I’m sorry,” she said, and I furrowed my brows, not understanding what she would be sorry about. “About your father,” Haelyn explained.

I looked down at her. “Me too.”

The sympathy in her expression was too much to handle. I gulped then jumped to my feet, stretching a hand so she could stand up. She took it through her gloves, her chest landing on mine.

“What’s your favorite food?” I asked.

She tilted her head to the side. “Pancakes, why?”

“Come on.” I nudged her. “If you get to the bottom I’ll get you some pancakes to celebrate.”

TWENTY-NINE

HAELYN

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for them?” I asked Mr. Graves after he unbuckled my skis and guided me to the small restaurant at the bottom of the ski resort.

Now that we returned our suits, he was wearing a brown leather jacket, a black high-neck blouse, and a pair of dark pants. His muscles flexed under his clothes as he opened the door for me, looking my way as he nodded.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. They’ll spend at least one more hour on the trails.” The cold breeze carried his smell like a temptation.

I took a deep breath, struggling to peel my eyes off his body and follow him inside. As much as I didn’t want to come today, I had to admit I had a lot of fun despite how many times I lost my balance and tripped face-down into the snow. He was patient with me, though and while he tried to hold his amusement in, I could sense his shaky laugh whenever I became one with the white blanket on the ground.

As promised, he stayed by my side until we made it safely to the end. My legs were still shaking as if I were running a marathon, but the adrenaline pumping in my veins was strong enough to keep me on my feet.I hated it as muchas I appreciated the way he succeeded in taking my mind off everything else going on.

“You can wait here.” He stopped for a moment in front of a wooden table with two benches without a backrest and I agreed with a bob of my head. “What flavor?”

“Chocolate,” I said, glancing at him over my shoulder with a smile. “Thank you.”

Tristan moved a few feet away from me where a small bar was placed and I let my gaze wander around the space small as a one-person room. Apart from a man in the corner of the restaurant, the place was empty.

There were large windows everywhere and on the single wall inside lingered photos and banknotes from everywhere in the world. I stepped out of my seat and to the wall, taking a moment to analyze everything displayed. There were some banknotes I recognized—like euros, pound sterling, Turkish lira—and so many more I had never seen in my life.

Was this place that popular? Then why was it so empty?

I moved my finger on a white paper under all the money, where it was written with black ink. ‘If you wish to see your country’s currency here, please leave the smallest amount.’

What they did wasn’t about the cash, but about collecting and showing people the differences between cultures and not only that.

I took a step to the side, surveying the photos now. Christian Rincon, founder in 1954. Daniel Rincon, 1987. Noah William, new owner, 2002, and…

Tristan Graves, new owner, 2024.

My eyes bulged out of my head as I inched closer, squinting to make sure I got that right. His photo was the only one that wasn’t black and white and thanks to it, I found out the restaurant was calledBar. Unlike the rest of the images wherethe only people photographed were the owners, in Mr. Graves’ image he had at least ten employees around him.

This place was his?

“I bought it shortly after my father died.” A voice sounded behind me and I felt how my heart almost jumped through my throat. “I pushed everyone away and spent most of my time here. They wanted a photo in honor of my father, but I wouldn’t take one without the employees working here. This place is theirs more than it’s mine.”

I turned to him, taking one more glance at the wall before following him to another table next to the window he picked. I swallowed a lump in my throat. It was nice of him to do that.

“When you told me about skiing with your father, I didn’t think it had happenedhere,” I said and took a seat in front of him, lounging my legs in front.

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