M. Whitlock-Holmes;Β Most Likely to Say βIβve Got Thisβ (and mean itβ¦ mostly)
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have you seen ( Matthew "Matt" Whitlock-Holmes, he/him )? They look a lot like ( Oliver Stark ). The ( 32 ) year old ( firefighter, assists at the funeral home when needed ) is so ( courageous, protective, deeply loyal ) but I heard they can also be really ( reckless, impulsive, womanizer ). Can you believe theyβve been in town for ( 32 years )?! They live in the ( the stacks ) neighbourhood and kind of remind me of ( Sunburnt California Hero, Reckless Saviour Complex, Golden Retriever Energy ). If I was asked, Iβd guess that they were ( Most Likely to Say βIβve Got Thisβ (and mean itβ¦ mostly) ) in their yearbook for the class of ( 2012 ).
follows come from huntrcssqueen
full name :Β Matthew Leon Whitlock-Holmes
nickname(s) :Β Matt, Mattie
date of birth :Β June 27
parentage:Β Andrew Whitlock-Holmes (father), Colleen Whitlock-Holmes (mother)
siblings:Β 5 brothers; oldest brother, Maverick, West, Wyatt & Mickey
significant other:Β single
gender identity :Β cis male ( he/him )
romantic orientation :Β panromantic
sexual orientation :Β pansexual
occupation :Β firefighter
BIOGRAPHY: (highlights)
born and raised in town, knows every street like the back of his hand (and every bad decision spot too)
grew up in a funeral home β learned how to sit with death before he ever learned how to deal with his own emotions
one of six brothers β loud house, louder fights, unbreakable loyalty
became a firefighter to not become his family⦠and somehow still orbiting it anyway
has a reputation for running into danger before anyone can tell him not to
died for 3 minutes during a thunderstorm call β struck unconscious on scene, no pulse, came back anyway after that, he doesnβt talk about death the same way
the kind of guy who says βIβve got thisβ even when he very much does not
reckless streak a mile wide β trusts instinct over protocol more often than he should
helps out at the family funeral home when needed β upstairs and down
first love was Emily β dated two years, ruined it by cheating, never properly owned up to it
charming enough to get away with things he probably shouldnβt
hates thunderstorms now, even if he wonβt admit it
the guy people call in an emergency⦠even when he is the emergency
BIOGRAPHY: (full)
Matthew Whitlock-Holmes has spent his entire life learning how to run toward dangerβsometimes for the right reasons, sometimes just because he doesnβt know how to stand still. Born on June 27 and raised in the Whitlock-Holmes family funeral home, Matt grew up surrounded by grief, ritual, and the quiet understanding that life is fragile. As one of six boys he learned early how to be loud just to be heard, and tough just to be seen. The brothers fought like it was a second language, all sharp elbows and biting words, but loyalty ran deeper than anything else. No matter how hard they pushed each other, they always closed ranks when it mattered.
Their parents, Andrew and Colleen Whitlock-Holmes, built more than just a businessβthey built a reputation. The funeral home was only one face of it. Matt grew up knowing there were other layers, things that werenβt talked about in daylight. A crime family, whether anyone said it outright or not. He understood it young, even if he didnβt fully grasp the weight of it until later. Where his brother leaned into it in different ways, Matt chose something elseβsomething cleaner, something that felt like it could balance the scales. Becoming a firefighter wasnβt just a career choice. It was a line he drew in the sand.
At 32, Matt has built a reputation in town as someone who shows up when things go badβand doesnβt hesitate. Courage comes naturally to him, almost instinctively. Heβs the kind of man who will charge into a burning building without waiting for backup, convinced he can handle whateverβs on the other side. Most of the time, he can. Thatβs the problem. It reinforces the belief that he always can even if he can't. Because beneath the heroics is something more dangerous: impulsiveness wrapped in confidence. Matt doesnβt always think things through. He trusts his gut over reason, his heart over caution, and his need to fix things over whether theyβre his to fix in the first place. It makes him good at what he doesβbut it also makes him reckless.
That recklessness has followed him into his personal life. In high school, he dated Emily for two yearsβthe kind of relationship people assumed would last. It didnβt. Matt cheated on her with Aspen, a mistake heβs never fully owned. Heβll say he was manipulated, that things werenβt as simple as they looked, and maybe thereβs some truth buried in that. But the reality is, he never gave Emily the apology she deserved. Itβs one of the few things that lingers in the back of his mind, even if he refuses to sit with it for too long.
Since then, Matt has earned a reputationβcharming, easygoing, and rarely tied down. He moves through relationships the same way he moves through emergencies: fast, intense, and often without thinking about the aftermath. Itβs easier that way. Easier than staying, easier than being known too deeply. Still, thereβs a softness to him that people donβt always expect. A golden-retriever kind of warmth, buried under the bravado. He jokes easily, smiles often, and carries a kind of sunburnt, California-hero energy that draws people in whether he means it to or not. He wants to be someone people can rely on. Needs to be, maybe. And when it comes to his family, that loyalty becomes absolute.
Even now, Matt walks a careful line between the life heβs chosen and the one he was born into. He keeps his distance from the familyβs more dangerous dealings, holding tight to the belief that he can stay separate from it. But blood has a way of pulling people back in. If Andrew calls, or if Mickey needs help, Matt shows up. He tells himself itβs just this once. Just helping. Just keeping things under control. βIβve got this,β heβll say. And most of the time, he believes it.
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"the girlfriend doesn't keep you in check?" she hadn't yet met the woman of the hour, though she'd spent so much of her time working on the ranch, that wasn't shocking. especially if she didn't traffic in late night beers with the firefighters of carroll. este had no qualms with either option. even if it was no longer her place, it still felt so simple to tease. "someone's got to make sure that head stays on your shoulders."
although she supposed the amount of similar looking men in the room would have ensured that one way or another. despite their minute variance, the w-h brothers carried themselves with the same air, she could point at any one of them, "they don't look to be doin' the job."
Matt snorted, dragging a hand over the back of his neck as he glanced toward his brothers before looking back at her with an exaggerated look of betrayal. β Hey, don't lump me in with those idiotsβthey're the reason my mom's got grey hair. And as for the girlfriend? She keeps me in check plenty, makes sure I keep my heard on straight. β He flashed that easy Matt grin, nudging her shoulder. β Good to know I've still got you around to pile on, though. Wouldn't feel right otherwise. β He teased her playfully.
"Scenic genius, huh? That does sound about right." Turning her attention from the view to look at him, her cheeks filled with colour like they usually did when she'd find his eyes on her like that and that now familiar softness around the edges of his heart fluttering smile. A look, she was starting to realize might exist in that way solely... for her.
"You brought me to your spot?" Shared with her his secret place to get away from it all, his escape. It meant the world to her, and somehow the scenery got more beautiful, and the night more meaningful yet still. A weighty and meaningful thing it was that he let her into his sanctuary and she handled that in her heart with all due sentimentality.
Hugging Wilbur to her chest as she crawled out of the cab with a hand placed delicately in his own, her hand remained in his while he lead them around to the back of his truck, letting go only so he could hop on up. "Is it time for the lights?" Grinning she used his offered hand to help pull her up with him, setting the sleepy piglet down on one of the pillows before lowering down into the nest of blankets herself.
This was maybe the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. The back of a pick up lit with lights and over looking the town from above as the stars started to peek out among an early woken moon. "I feel like I'm in a whole other world up here with you."
She said your spot, and Matt swore his heart forgot how to do its job for a second. He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck before settling beside her in the blankets, one knee pulled up. β Yeahβ¦ my spot, β he admitted, eyes drifting back to the town below. β Been coming up here since I was a kid whenever things got loud in my head. β He glanced over at her then, the crooked grin tugging at his mouth again.
At the mention of the lights, he reached behind him and flicked the little battery pack tucked into the blankets. Warm string lights blinked to life around the truck bed, reflecting softly in his eyes as Wilbur immediately circled twice before flopping onto a pillow with a satisfied little grunt. Matt laughed. β Look at that. Dude settles in faster than I do. Pretty sure he thinks this whole setup is for him. β He playfully joked about it as it was all just for her. The girl who was stealing his heart.
Then her words caught up with him. I feel like I'm in a whole other world up here with you. His teasing disappeared, replaced by that earnest honesty he never quite knew how to hide. β Yeah? β he murmured, looking at her instead of the view. β Goodβ¦ because for the first time in a long time, I don't think I'm up here trying to get away from the world. β A small smile spread across his face. He ensured that the food and drinks were set up, pouring her a glass for them to enjoy before the night sky could completely overtake the view.
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"We got us a couple'a roomin' houses in Brantley, I think for them folk in that space 'tween leavin' home and findin' a place in town or in the city, comin' back from university, that kinda stuff." Housing hadn't ever been very expensive there, and most people inherited the homes they grew up in, or left town altogether. "Mama said they was fixin'ta build some town houses or somethin' though." It sort of made her wonder what sort of change she'd find when she finally went back to visit to help with the harvest. Her one promise to her parents when she'd left home. It was one of the few times the entire Rose clan came together, and the busiest time of the year in the small town as family members flooded home to generational farms for all hands on deck.
"Is it too much? It's too much, isn't it? I was admittedly a little bit nervous 'n I cook when I'm nervous so I might'a made too much." But his expression looked like a kid on Christms more than anything and she found herself blushing deep enough she could feel it in her chest. "Cookin' is kinda my favourite thing in the world, if I'm honest. Think my happy place is any kitchen." She chuckled as she held her beer out for a little cheers.
Birch's panic made Matt bark out a laugh before he could stop it, immediately shaking his head as he bumped his beer gently against hers. β Whoa, heyβno. Too much? This is like...the nicest thing anybody's done for me in a while. β He glanced back down at the spread, eyebrows climbing again. β I was fully prepared to impress you with my ability to buy chips at a gas station, and you show up with homemade sandwiches and enough food to feed my giant stomach. β His grin softened into something warmer.
He took a bite, paused dramatically, then pointed at her with the sandwich. β Okay, that's it. You can't casually tell people cooking's your favourite thing and then make food this good. That's dangerous information. This is amazing! β He swallowed, leaning back on his hands with an easy smile. β A kitchen's your happy place, huh? Mine's usually wherever the people I like are. Or the fire house. β His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. β Guess today that just happens to include a blanket, a beer, and what might be the best sandwich I've ever had with a gorgeous date. β
The intensity of the moment left her gasping into his lips, hands eager and grasping as they tried to almost touch all of each other at once, to hold onto each other lest they get lost altogether in it. The kiss was a conversation in itself, paragraphs and monologues said through passion and a growing need to be ever closer to each other.
She let him guide them backward until much like they'd been on his couch weeks prior they now were on hers, only this time she wasn't aware of where his hands were going because of her scars but because of the rippling heat they radiated through her. From her wedding night onward intimacy had been a thing expected of her and for the benefit of her husband alone, her first truly her focus release achieved just months before this moment she knew she was going to have to with him. She was ready to have with him.
He knew every ugly part of her body now and still managed to make her feel utterly beautiful there, beneath the desire darkened look in his eye as he'd look at her between briefly captured breaths. She hadn't been fully with a man since before her husband had died, and already this felt nothing like that had because she wanted Matthew in a way Jerry had never even tried for.
Depite her nerves, despite her heart trying to beat the air from her lungs even as she so happily suffocated on his lips with the softest of noises into them that sounded much like his name stifled there into the non-existent space. Lifting a knee to cradle him there, hands taking up fistfuls of his shirt to keep him right where she'd happily have him stay, Birch was happily and all too willingly letting herself got lost to the moment.
She stole whatever restraint Matt had been clinging to, not through urgency but through trust. It settled over him with a weight that was both grounding and terrifying, because for all his confidence in every other corner of life, this felt fragile in the best possible way. The distance that had existed between them for weeks dissolved beneath the warmth of her touch, leaving him with the singular certainty that he wanted to meet her exactly where she was.
He guided her backward without hesitation until the couch caught them, one hand bracing their weight while the other remained careful in its wandering, touching every single inch his needy hands could grab onto. The closeness was enough to leave his pulse racing, his thoughts scattered into something far simpler than words. He only knew he wanted to stay there, suspended in the quiet gravity pulling them together as his pants had tightened up.
Every fleeting pause became an opportunity to look at her, touch her, yearn for her. Her hands twisted into his shirt, and he pulled his arms back to pull it up over his head, revealing his strong, chiseled body. The weight of her knee against him only deepened the feeling that neither of them wanted the world outside these walls to know. His arm inching up her leg, squeezing it against his body whilst his hips found hers to show her just how much he truly wanted her.
emilyβs brows furrowed as matt started in on how hard it was being him, how could she ever understand, and then like a match to gasoline he said she didnβt care if he lived or died. confusion flashed first. then her face burned hot with embarrassment and anger, because it was such a cruel thing to say to the person who had been sitting here in a plastic chair all day. βyeah,β emily said, voice tight, βbecause i fucking came here because i donβt care.β
a harsh laugh escaped her. she turned and grabbed her bag off the chair like she needed something solid in her hands. βyou know what, matt? youβre a fucking asshole.β emilyβs eyes were bright, but her stare was steady. βi was literally driving home from work when i got the call you were hurt. i came here anyway. i stayed here until you woke up so you wouldnβt come to in a hospital room alone.β her jaw clenched. βi called your mom. i texted maverick. i did all of that because you put me down as your god damn emergency contact.β she shook her head slowly, the disbelief making her voice sharper. βso tell me again how i donβt care if you live or die.β emily swallowed hard, anger edging into something raw. βjust because iβm not fucking you doesnβt mean i donβt care about you,β she snapped. βbut fuck you for saying that.β
she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door then stopped and turned back because she wasnβt done and he didnβt get to leave her with that. βand another thing,β emily said, voice shaking with heat. βno, i donβt know what itβs like to be you as a whitlock-holmes in this town.β her eyes narrowed. βbut i do know what itβs like to be underestimated. to have people doubt my skills and intelligence because iβm a woman.β
she lifted her chin. βiβm a programmer at google. you think that was easy? you think i didnβt have to fight for every ounce of respect i have?β emilyβs mouth twisted. βiβve had men try to take my projects, talk over me, explain my own job to me like iβm a child just because they have a dick and a loud voice.β her gaze cut into him. βso donβt talk to me like i couldnβt possibly understand what it feels like to be judged and dismissed. i live in it.β
she exhaled, bitter. βand boo hoo, people in this town donβt like you. mattβno one is going to change their mind about you because you run into burning buildings. you canβt fix their opinion with heroics.β emilyβs voice dropped, sharper. βso fuck them. who cares what this shitty town thinks? theyβre narrow-minded and most of them peaked in high school.β
she heard voices in the hallway that were familiar, loud. wyattβs hyperactive tone unmistakable. emilyβs shoulders lifted with a breath, and her mouth pulled into something like a smile, except it wasnβt kind. βchange your emergency contact,β she said flatly, sarcasm cutting clean in the next statement. βsince i obviously donβt give a shit.β and when his brothers came in, emily slipped out without another word, leaving the room before her tears could catch up to her in front of anyone else.
Matt watched every word hit him harder than any injury he had walked away with that day. The anger drained out of his face almost instantly, replaced by something hollow. When she grabbed her bag, he instinctively pushed himself forward, only to suck in a sharp breath as pain shot through his ribs. His mouth opened, closed, and by the time he found his voice it was barely above a whisper. β ...Em. β
It wasn't defensive anymore. It wasn't angry. It sounded like regret. Like he was hearing his own words for the first time and hated them. His hand reached out a few inches before falling uselessly back onto the blanket, fingers curling around the fabric instead. He wanted to tell her that wasn't what he meant, that he'd been lashing out because it was easier than admitting he was scared and ashamed, but the apology never made it past his throat. All he could do was watch her walk away, the hospital door closing behind her just as his family was walking into the room. They could never leave one conversation without a fight.
emily listened to him explain why heβd changed it, but it still didnβt answer the part that had been needling her since the nurse said it out loud. βdude,β she said, voice tight, βyour family is supposed to be there for you for exactly that reason.β she understood not wanting to worry them, but her brows pinched anyway. βand i get it. you didnβt want to freak them out. butβ¦β emily shook her head, frustration rising. βwhy did you put me down? and you didnβt even tell me.β she held his gaze, like if she looked away sheβd soften too fast. βthatβs not a small thing, matt. thatβs not βoops, forgot to mention.ββ
then he kept talkingβabout the call, the orders, the choiceβand emilyβs composure cracked into something sharper. she rolled her eyes, but they were wet. βyou could have died,β she said, the words coming out low and angry because fear always showed up as anger first with her. her jaw clenched hard enough to hurt. βyou could have died and instead of sitting here next to your stupid hospital bed, iβd be standing at your funeral wondering what the last thing i said to you was.β
she crossed her arms over her chest, like she could hold herself together that way. βyour fucking savior complex is going to kill you one day,β emily snapped, and then her voice dipped, quieter but meaner because it was true. βand for what? so you can feel like youβre paying interest on your past mistakes?β she stared at him, eyes bright, breathing uneven. βbe normal,β she said, voice cracking just slightly. βapologize when you mess up. take the consequences. and then justβ¦ be better. don't do this dangerous shit to feel better about yourself.β
She didn't get it. Matt knew she was scaredβhe could hear it in every angry wordβbut she was arguing with a version of him that had never existed. He looked away, jaw flexing, swallowing hard before meeting her eyes again. β You think I don't know that? β he asked quietly. β I woke up with busted ribs and half a pharmacy hooked into my arm. I know I could've died. I know I screwed up. β The thing was... part of him didn't care. His voice cracked with frustration more than pain. β But you keep acting like this was about me trying to be some hero. It wasn't. β The wrap around his arm throbbed from the burn that torched through his glove and up his sleeve.
He rubbed a hand over his face, in the best attempt that he could. β You don't know what it's like being me, Em. Being a Whitlock-Holmes. Everywhere I go, somebody's already decided who I am before I even open my mouth. My family gets judged for things people will never let go of, and so do I. Every mistake is proof that we're exactly what everyone thinks we are. β He laughed bitterly, shaking his head laying it back, holding his breathe like that could take the pain away. β So yeah, maybe I push too hard. Maybe I keep trying to save everything because if I stop, then what am I left with? Another guy everyone expects to fail. Another guy who said he loved you and now when I try and move on from that I'm just that pathetic ex-boyfriend? β He was in his head. Way too much as he shut his eyes.
He shifted, wincing as pain shot through his side. β It's not like it would matter if I lived or died to you. β His voice was a whisper, barley speaking. His eyes stayed on hers. β I can't be anyone be myself. I don't think I've ever known what normal feels like. I'll take whatever Cap throws at me. But don't stand there and tell me this was about making myself feel better. β He swallowed. β You'll never understand what it's like to spend your whole life trying to prove the world wrong. β
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relief hit emily the second matt managed to speak, even if his voice was rough and scraped thin from disuse. her shoulders sagged like sheβd been holding them up for hours. βthank god,β she breathed. she opened her mouth to answer his question about how bad it was until he shifted and clearly felt it himself. emilyβs face tightened in a sympathetic wince. βyeah,β she said quietly, βthat pretty much answers it.β
she exhaled and folded her arms, trying to look composed when she felt anything but. her brows lifted as she tilted her head at him. βbecause iβm apparently your emergency contact?β emily asked, staring like she couldnβt decide if she was offended or just baffled. βwhat the fuck, matt.β then she forced herself into action-mode, because that was easier than sitting in the feeling. βi called your mom,β she said, ticking it off. βand i texted maverick. so your people should be coming soon.β
emily held his gaze a moment longer, a question sitting on the tip of her tongueβwhy did you change it to me?βbut she swallowed it. she wasnβt ready for that answer yet. instead, the anger found a safer target. βwhy did you go against your captainβs orders?β she asked, voice low but sharp. βdo you have any idea how much trouble you couldβve gotten in?β
Matt blinked at her, confusion lingering until her words finally caught up with him. His brows knitting together. Then a tired, almost disbelieving laugh escaped him before he immediately regretted it, a sharp wince pulling across his face. β Owβyeah, okay, no laughing. β He shook his head carefully. β I forgot I changed it. That wasβ¦ a long time ago. β
His gaze dropped to the blanket, fingers fidgeting against the edge of it with all the wires attached. β My family gets enough calls about me as it is. Every time the station number pops up, my mom thinks someoneβs about to tell her Iβm dead. I got tired of putting them through that, so I switched it and never really thought about it again. β He glanced back at Emily, offering a weak shrug. β Guess I forgot to switch it back. β
At her question, the humor faded. He let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling for a moment. β I know Cap gave an order. I know. I justβ¦ got in my head. I just got pissed about some things. There were animals still inside, and all I could think about was getting to them before it was too late. After that, everything else just kind of disappeared. The radio, the yellingβ¦ all of it. β His jaw tightened. JP seemed like he would never accept him and Emily sitting here basically felt like it was being proven. He would βnever changeβ. He groaned trying to lean on his elbow looking at her.
who: @chaoticmattwhitlock
where: carroll medical center
emily still couldnβt believe she was mattβs emergency contact. out of everyone in his life. the nurse had said she was the newest one on file, like that was a normal detail to casually drop, and emily hadnβt been able to stop thinking about it since. when did he change it? why?
she sat in the stiff chair beside his hospital bed, thumb nail between her teeth, leg bouncing despite her best efforts. the room smelled like disinfectant and something metallic, and every beep from the monitor felt too loud. matt looked wrong in a hospital bedβtoo still, too pale, like the world had taken someone loud and made him quiet. her chest tightened painfully at the sight.
when he stirred, emily snapped upright so fast the chair creaked. she was out of it in a second, leaning closer without thinking, her voice careful like she was afraid of startling him back into unconsciousness. βmattβ¦?β
Matt surfaced slowly. First came the ache. A deep, bone-weary pain that seemed to live everywhere at once, especially in his ribs. Then the sounds. The steady beeping. The distant chatter from the hallway. The soft rustle of someone moving nearby. And then her voice. Matt...? His brow furrowed before his eyes even opened. For a second, he thought he was dreaming. Because the last person he expected to hear was Emily.
His eyelids felt impossibly heavy as he forced them open. The bright hospital lights stabbed at his vision, making him wince immediately, narrowing them at the light. β Jesus... β he rasped. His throat felt like sandpaper. It took another second before his blurry gaze finally found her standing beside the bed. Emily. Actually there. Confusion flickered across his face. Then concern. Then something softer.
β Hey... β His voice was rough and weak, nowhere near its usual volume. His eyes drifted around the room, taking in the monitors, the IV line, the sterile white walls. The smile faded slightly.Memory came back in broken flashes. Smoke. Heat. The radio screaming. The roof. Thenβ Nothing.
His jaw tightened. β How bad is it? β The question was quiet. Not scared. Just practical. Matt shifted slightly and immediately regretted it, a sharp flash of pain crossing his face. β Ow. Okay. Pretty bad. β He let out a strained breath before looking back at her. Only then did something click. A crease formed between his brows. β Wait. β His eyes narrowed slightly. β Why are you here? β His arm came slowly to rest against his ribs.
Location β₯ Farm in Carroll
Whatβ₯ Matthew was having a difficult time with Birch's brothers not liking him, wanting to prove he is trying his hardest to change and put his past behind him. He let his hero complex get the better of himself and threw everything out into work.
The fire had started miles away. Just a brush fire at first. A spark. A careless mistake. But the dry summer grass had turned it into something alive. Something hungry. Now it stretched across the fields in a wall of orange and black, devouring everything in its path as strong winds pushed it straight toward the old barn sitting at the edge of the property.
Matt stood beside Engine 118, helmet tucked under one arm as ash drifted through the air like snow. The radio chatter was constant. Crews were trying to establish containment lines. The neighbouring structures had already been evacuated. Everyone was focused on preventing the fire from spreading farther. Then he heard it popping his helmet onto his head.
A horse screaming. His stomach dropped. He turned toward the barn. Smoke poured from the roof. Flames licked up the wooden walls. And through all the chaos he could still hear animals trapped inside. β Cap! β Matt called. The older firefighter followed his gaze. β No.β Matt clenched his jaw.
β They're still in there! β
β The structure's compromised. β
β We can get them out. β
β We are not risking firefighters for livestock. β
The words landed like a punch. Matt understood the logic. He really did. Firefighters got killed making emotional decisions. Every training exercise drilled that into them. Property could be replaced. Animals could be replaced. Lives couldn't. But standing there listening to terrified animals cry out for help felt impossible. Because fear sounded the same no matter who it came from. Human. Animal. Didn't matter. Fear was fear. And he couldn't just stand there.
The captain must have seen the look on his face because he pointed a finger at him. β Matt. β A warning. A direct order. Stay put. For a moment he genuinely tried. He stood there. Watched the smoke billow into the sky. Watched flames crawl higher along the barn walls. Tried to convince himself that somebody else would handle it. That there wasn't anything he could do. Then another terrified scream echoed from inside. And he was moving before he could stop himself.
β Matt! β The captain's voice disappeared behind him as he sprinted toward the structure. His pulse hammered in his ears. His boots pounded against dry dirt. The heat intensified with every step. By the time he reached the barn doors, it felt like standing beside an open furnace. He yanked his mask into place and shoved through the entrance. Instantly the world became smoke. Flames whooshing toward him. Darkness. Chaos. The air was thick enough to choke on.
The wooden interior groaned around him. Animals were panicking everywhere. A horse kicked violently against a stall door. Goats were packed into a corner. β It's okay, β Matt shouted, though he wasn't sure whether he was talking to them or himself. He moved quickly. Unlatching gates. Cutting restraints. Forcing doors open.
One by one the animals began bolting toward freedom. The first horse nearly knocked him over as it charged past. A goat slammed into his leg. Good. Keep moving. Get out. The smoke thickened. Something crashed somewhere overhead. His radio crackled. β Whitlock-Holmes, respond. β He ignored it. A cough ripped through him. His eyes burned. Sweat poured down his neck. Soot making it's way onto his skin. Still he kept moving deeper into the barn. Because he could still hear one horse. Still trapped. Still terrified.
And for some reason that sound wouldn't let him leave. Maybe because his head was already a mess. Maybe because lately everything felt like it was falling apart outside of work. Birch. God. Just thinking about her made his chest ache. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. The one person who somehow saw every broken piece of him and stayed anyway.
But lately things had felt heavier. Not between them. Never between them. Around them. Especially when her brother was involved. Matt knew the males hated him. Maybe hate was too strong a word. Maybe it was strongly disliked. Distrust. Whatever it was, Matt felt it every time they were in the same room. How her brother left when he wanted to try and make things work. He could feel the judgment. The assumption that Matt wasn't good enough. Wasn't stable enough. Wasn't safe enough. And honestly? Some days Matt wondered if he was right.
Because normal people didn't run into burning barns. Normal people followed orders. Normal people knew when enough was enough. Matt never seemed to learn. He pushed harder. Ran faster. Jumped first. Thought later. It was practically written into his DNA. Another violent crack snapped him back to reality. The trapped horse. He found the stall through the smoke. The animal was rearing in panic. Eyes wild. β Easy, β Matt rasped. The horse didn't listen. Neither would he if he were trapped in a burning building.
Matt fought with the latch. His gloves slipped. The metal was scorching hot. β Come on! β He seethed not wanting to give up, he couldn't. The lock finally gave. The stall door swung open. For a split second neither of them moved. Then the horse exploded forward. Straight past him. Straight toward the exit. Relief flooded through him. A grin tugged at his lips.
The sound above him made that relief disappear instantly. A deep groan. The unmistakable sound of a structure giving up. Matt's head snapped upward. The roof beams were burning through. Flames raced across the rafters. His stomach dropped. Move. Now. He turned toward the exit. The world seemed to slow. One beam snapped. Then another. The ceiling came down.
The impact was brutal. A burning section of timber slammed into his shoulder and side, throwing him to the ground. Pain exploded through his body. White-hot. Blinding. The air rushed from his lungs. His helmet struck the dirt hard enough to make his vision flash. For a moment he couldn't hear anything. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Just pain.
Every rib felt shattered. His shoulder screamed. His arm wouldn't move. Smoke rolled around him. The heat intensified. Somewhere far away he heard voices shouting. His name. People were calling his name. The radio crackled frantically. β Mayday! Firefighter down! β Matt squeezed his eyes shut. A rough laugh escaped him before immediately turning into a cough. Of course. Of course this is how this happened. Because apparently he couldn't help himself.
Because every time there was a choice between safe and saving someone, he picked saving someone. Even when it was stupid. Even when it got him hurt. Even when everyone around him begged him not to. Through blurred vision he caught movement near the doorway. The horse he'd freed was outside. Alive. Running across the field. So were the others. Every single one.
The sight made something loosen inside his chest. Worth it. Probably not the answer his captain would want. Definitely not the answer Birch would want. But worth it. The barn groaned again. More debris crashed down. The heat became unbearable. Then suddenly hands were grabbing him. Fellow firefighters. Pulling. Dragging. Shouting. The world blurred in and out as they hauled him toward the exit.
Fresh air finally hit his face. The brightness of daylight burned his eyes. He collapsed onto the grass, coughing violently. Someone was checking his injuries. Someone else was asking questions. But Matt barely heard any of it. Because his thoughts immediately found Birch. He pictured her smile. The way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. The way she always believed there was something good in him, even when he struggled to see it himself. And for the first time since the roof came down, fear settled into his chest.
Not fear of dying. Not fear of the pain. Fear of her getting that phone call. Fear of seeing disappointment and terror in her eyes. Fear that maybe her brother had been right all along. That loving someone like Matt meant constantly waiting for the next disaster. As paramedics surrounded him they got him onto the gurney to head off to the hospital while the rest of the 118 finished the job.
As the paramedics cut away part of his damaged turnout coat, his gaze snagged on the little pig in the cowboy hat. The pin was blackened with soot now, scratched and scorched, but still there. Somehow it had survived. Matt stared at it for a moment before closing his eyes. Just like it was meant to keep him alive if felt like. Sorry, Birch. He'd just never been very good at staying out of trouble.
He definitely made her feel like a girl again, blushing and giggly, like had she a notebook she'd be doodling his name on the front. It was sort of funny how both he and Joel had made her blush so often but in entirely different ways. Matthew's easy boyish charm less overwhelming, but no less captivating, no less skilled in keeping her stomach a constant fluttering of butterfly's wings. Even now, an entire month later, every time he looked at her it made her heart skip the smallest of beats.
Drinking in his reaction to the little gift, Birch couldn't help it. Giving gifts, feeding people, letting them know they were on her mind, these were the language of Birch's love and his glee at the little pin was gift enough in return for her. "I'm hopin' it acts like a good ol' good luck charm 'ta keep ya safe 'n sound out there while playin' hero. I almost went with a rabbits foot, but I always thought them was kinda morbid."
"Matthew..." She breathed as she took in the view when he stopped the truck, knowing that from their little picnic in the bed of it, it would definitely be even more spectacular. "This is so beautiful." Carroll, nestled there in it's abundance of trees, glowing in the deepening dusk as the street lights started to come on. It took her breath away a little. "Wow."
Matt leaned back in the seat a little, one arm draped over the steering wheel like he was trying to look casual about the fact that heβd absolutely picked this spot on purpose. He followed her gaze out over Carroll, the way the lights were starting to blink awake like the whole town was stretching after a long day, and his grin softened at the edges.
He'd cut the engine to that they could get out and sit in the back of his β Yeah? β he said, like he hadnβt been watching her reaction more than the view. β I mean, I was gonna say Iβm basically a certified tour guide at this point, but I think Iβm getting promoted toβ¦ scenic genius. β His playful grin curling up at the corner of his lip to show off those teeth of his.
His voice dipped a little quieter after that, less teasing and more real without fully trying to make a moment out of it. β Iβm glad you like it though. I figuredβ¦ you deserve a place that makes you stop thinking for a minute like this place does for me. β He glanced at her, before jumping out of his truck to head around to get her door, helping her and Wilbur out. The back of his truck was facing the view as he jumped up into it, ready to lift Wilbur and her up into it as well. β Just feels like Carroll is a whole other world looking down on it like this. β
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"A group chat with buildings!" Now that brought a very real burst of laughter past her lips that she almost had to stifle with her hand. "When I said you could stand at one end'a town 'n look right down main street 'ta the other side... I wasn't jokin'." Heck the town's population grew and fell significantly every day as the students funneled into town for school from all the outlying farms and acreages. It was nice that he seemed to be as easy going as he looked, their stroll surprisingly comfortable for a first date.
"What'd they call it, The Stacks?" A decidedly charming small town name for such a modern apartment complex but that somehow only made it fit the vibe of the town that much better. "Tourists, goodness I ain't even thought'a them. Sounds like it's gunna get a might crowded round here, that's excitin'." Nodding her head in agreement, Birch opened the basket for the sheet folded on top, which she pulled out and spread for them so they could sit down. Birch unloading the basket as he spoke. Fresh orange juice in a glass bottle, containers of fruits, salad, and some nicely wrapped slow roast beef sandwiches on sourdough she'd made herself. The last items to come a couple bottles of beer, one which she handed him with a playfully conspiratorial shush.
Matt dropped down onto the blanket like heβd been waiting all day have this date with Birch, to get to know her more ad see what she was like. β Okay, yeahβThey are where I live along with two of my brothers. β He had pointed toward the buildings of the complex. He liked living there, it was everything he needed.
When she started unpacking the basket, his confidence visibly wavered in the best way, eyes tracking each item like she was unveiling a magic trick. β β¦Alright, hold up. You made all this? β he asked, already reaching for the sandwiches like restraint was optional. β Because if this is what you call βbringing lunch,β then I feel like I showed up to a picnic and accidentally wandered into a professional catering event. β A beat, then a softer smile slipped in as he glanced up at her accepting the beer in his hand to crack it open.
