After the Golden Age (Golden Age 1)

That sent a warm and pleasant rush through her gut.

Her father, however, roared. They all knew him well enough to recognize what came next: he cocked his arms back, preparing to launch a wall of force that would knock his enemies aside. Except this time his “enemies” were in his own living room.

Warren’s attention focused on Arthur, but Celia was caught between them. She let out a short scream and huddled forward, arms protecting her head.

“Stop!” Arthur called out, reaching forward with a hand. The single word shook the room, rattled through their minds.

Warren made a choking gasp of pain and clutched his head. He stumbled back, but didn’t quite fall.

“Will you two stop it!” Suzanne put herself between the two men, pointing an arm at each of them as if ready to let out a blowtorch. Celia looked up, hesitating—surely her mother wouldn’t lose it, too.

Arthur put his arm protectively around Celia’s shoulders and glared at Warren, who was straightening, muscles trembling with tension.

If she had known she’d cause this much trouble, she’d have let the bus carry her into the river.

She peeled herself from Arthur’s grasp. “Look, I’m sorry. This shouldn’t be such a huge, end-of-the-world deal, but apparently it is. I’m sorry.”

She started to leave, to stomp back to her room and take a painkiller.

“Celia, wait,” Suzanne said. Celia waited. “This is about us, not you.”

She indicated the three of them. The three grown-ups, Celia thought, even now reverting to the old way of looking at them. It didn’t matter that most people, seeing Celia and Arthur walking hand in hand down the street, wouldn’t look twice at them. In a different world, they might have met in college. They might have met when she did his tax returns. In a different world, this would have been normal. But Warren and Suzanne saw something different.

Celia crossed her arms and wished she could hide while the three of them exchanged glares.

Suzanne suddenly pointed at Arthur. “Don’t you go trying to convince me this is all right!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Arthur said softly. He looked at Celia.

They could run away, she thought, staring back at him. Flee the city. If her parents couldn’t handle it, then they could leave Commerce City altogether.

—And what of the city?—

He was one of its protectors. He couldn’t leave. Neither could she, or she’d have done it already.

Suzanne continued. “It’s just … it’s just going to take some getting used to.”

“I understand,” Arthur said. “What if we promise not to get caught snogging on the sofa like a couple of teenagers?”

Warren sputtered; Suzanne hiccupped. She put her hand over her mouth. Then, she was giggling, and she wiped tears from her eyes.

“Okay,” Suzanne said finally, recovering to a point.

“Bah!” Warren rolled his eyes and stalked out of the room.

Celia couldn’t have hoped for better than that, really.

Arthur had known what to say to calm them down, or at least to diffuse the situation a touch. He said to Suzanne, “Did you have any luck with Breezeway?”

“No. The police are charging him with breaking curfew. No bail’s been set.”

“Damn. That means the rest of us are targets.”

“Not until nightfall. I’m going to make some breakfast.” She crossed her arms as she le

ft, as if she were still holding something back.

Arthur let out a sigh. “That went well.”