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They’d offered her their friendship, their bodies, their trust and their hearts freely, and neither man had pressured her for more than she could give. She ached to explain to them why she had to stay, but the words wouldn’t come. She’d never felt so torn, so shattered. She’d let so many people down in the last year—Lyle, Rodney, and now Matt and Mark. Guilt consumed her, stealing her voice, breaking her heart.

She closed her eyes and remembered the image of Lyle’s lifeless body, of Rodney lying on the pavement—both men covered in blood. They’d shed that blood for her. She owed them so much. Everything.

“We better get some sleep,” Mark said. “Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”

Mark was right. The morning came too soon. Bridget sat at her kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee, while Matt and Mark gathered their things. They’d called for a taxi, and Bridget sat waiting for the inevitable honking of its horn on the street down below.

Mark came out of her bedroom with his duffle. “Well, I guess that’s about it.”

She swallowed heavily, fighting to keep the tears at bay. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t make this good-bye more difficult by crying. She could see the strain in Mark’s face. His eyes reflected every bit of the misery she was feeling.

Matt came out of the bedroom next. His carry-on bag appeared to be stretched to the limit.

“What do you have in there?” she asked. It hadn’t been that full when they left Wyoming.

Matt shrugged. “Just a few souvenirs for the folks back home. Found a foam Statue of Liberty hat for Jessie, some golf balls with the Empire State Building on them for Caleb, and I got this really cool music box for Jake. Looks like the one in that movie he likes so much.” He glanced at Mark. “Crap. Forgot the name of it. Has the dude in the mask.”

“Phantom of the Opera,” Mark replied. “Jacob thinks Gerard Butler is hot.”

Bridget giggled. “Well, Jake’s right. He’s uber-hot.” She looked at Matt. “You couldn’t think of Phantom of the Opera.”

Matt shrugged. “I don’t watch that shit. Jake turns it on and starts singing along to that opera music and I head for the hills. Give me some good old-fashioned rock and roll tune or a kick-ass country song any day. Anyway, I thought he’d like the music box. Even though the sucker’s bulky and weighs a fucking ton.”

She stood up and crossed the room. She placed a quick kiss on Matt’s cheek. “It’s a very thoughtful gift. He’ll love it.”

A horn blared outside.

Mark walked to the window and looked down. “Our cab’s here.”

She’d offered to drive them to the airport, but they’d both refused, claiming they’d rather say their good-byes in private. She suspected they knew she’d fall apart the second they left. They didn’t want her driving in New York traffic, sobbing her heart out.

They’d both taken her again during the night. Making love to her as if she were as fragile as glass. Her lips were slightly swollen from their never-ending, beautiful kisses. They’d left an imprint on her heart and body that she’d never be able to wash away. Hell, she’d never want to.

“Well, I guess this is good-bye,” she said, the words sounding thick even to her own ears. Her throat was closing and soon she wouldn’t be able to speak at all.

Mark nodded. Dropping his duffle bag, he walked over and gathered her in his tight, all-encompassing embrace. She clung to him for several wonderful seconds before forcing herself to release him. He bent down and pressed a hard kiss to her lips.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I always will.”

She sucked in a breath that turned to a soft sob. She wanted to speak the words, but she couldn’t make a sound. Nothing that wouldn’t break the dam. Instead she nodded. Mark smiled sadly and she knew he understood.

Matt claimed her next, picking her up as he hugged her, planting lots of soft kisses against her scalp. “God, Bridge. I’m going to miss the shit out of you.”

She felt the first tear fall when he stepped back. She struggled to swallow. Christ, she needed to say something, but her voice was paralyzed.

Matt ran his hand along her cheek, wiping away the tear. “You’re beautiful and I love you.”

His words sealed her fate. They had to leave or she’d never let them go. Images of her sobbing and clinging to their legs flashed before her. She needed to get a grip.

She held her breath instead.

They each picked up their bags and headed for the door. Before they departed, they turned and gave her one last identical, dimple-creased smile. Her beloved cowboys.

The door closed and she crumpled, releasing her pent-up breath. She held herself silent as she let the tears begin to flow. It wouldn’t do for them to hear her falling apart.

Walking to the window, she watched as they appeared on the street below. They threw their bags in the trunk. Before they climbed in, both of them looked up.

She smiled through her tears and lifted her hand to wave. Matt returned the gesture as Mark tipped his hat. Then they got in the cab and they were gone.