The Assistant Coach (BOOK 1: OMEN KING SERIES)

|𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚕|

Kohl Warren

Two years later.

I stand a few paces away, taking in the scene before me. The air is fresh, filled with the earthy scent of damp grass and the faint sweetness of blooming wildflowers. Leia sinks down onto her knees, the patchy wet grass squelching beneath her as the moisture seeps into her dark black leggings. She places her hands on her thighs, fingers splayed out like she's grounding herself, and closes her eyes, inhaling deeply.

I can see her shoulders relax a little with each breath in, and I wish I could reach out and comfort her. But I know this moment is hers, a private conversation with the past, so I quietly stand by and watch. The sunlight bathes her in a golden glow, making her black hair shimmer like fresh ink. She had trimmed it months ago, but those soft curls still cascade down her back, brushing against her waist.

When she finally opens her eyes, the sun catches in her emerald irises, making them sparkle with a mix of hope and sorrow.

"Hi, Mom," she whispers, her voice soft and tender, directed at the grave before her.

A gentle smile tugs at her lips as she gazes at the headstone, where the name Marie Welsh is etched in stone, a permanent reminder of love and loss. Marie Welsh, Leia's mother. She died a year ago, and Leia had been heartbroken. It had taken a long time for her to accept that her mom wasn't coming back, but eventually she found a way to move forward. They had a toxic relationship, but they worked through it, and it hurt me to know that once they patched things up, her mother was ripped from her. It was a freak car accident, the driver was intoxicated and drove straight into her.

"It's taken me a long time to visit you, but I came with someone." One year to be exact. But time is a bitch, and healing could take ages. Fuck all the bastards who said she shouldv'e visited sooner, she needed to heal.

I don't wait for her to elaborate; my heart swells as I step closer, standing beside her. She remains kneeling, and I can't help but feel a rush of warmth knowing that this is her first time here in a year, and she chose to bring me along.

It's a big deal, an honor, really.

"Hi, Marie," I say, my voice almost catching in my throat. Words tumble around in my head like marbles, but I settle on the simple truth: I want her to know she's missed. "We think about you every day. I hope you're doing okay wherever you are."

Leia looks up at me, her eyes shimmering as she takes my hand in hers, our fingers intertwining. It's a small gesture, but it feels monumental as she continues to gaze at her mother's grave.

"Mom, this is my boyfriend, Kohl Warren," she says with a light laugh, the sound breaking the tension in the air. "I'm sure you already remember him. I mean, you did rip his ears off talking about makeup."

Her laughter is infectious, and I smile. She releases my hand and rises to her feet, pulling the sleeve of her cozy lilac sweater up to wipe away the tears that threaten to spill.

"Mommy, I hope you're proud of me," she chokes out, her voice wavering, and instinctively, I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, as if I can shield her from the weight of her emotions.

At that moment, I realized how much she needed to say those words, how much she wished she was here to see the woman she's become.

I wish Marie could see her in that coach uniform—proudly wearing the colors of Ranchers Heights, where she poured every ounce of her heart into shaping those teenage boys into not just athletes, but better people.

Right now, though, we were back in Colorado, standing on the soil that once cradled her childhood, where she felt her mother should rest.

Her dedication was fierce, relentless. She was a force, and I admired her for it. But damn, I often wondered if she realized how much of a soft spot she had for those teenagers. I'd never forget the frantic calls I'd get from her players, their voices trembling, spilling their guts about everything from my "legendary" hockey career to the bruises they tried to hide.